Lord of Dogtown
by Apocalypticism
Summary: What if Sid had given Arnold a swirly, becoming friends with Big Gino? Years later, policeman Arnold Shortman struggles coming to terms with the man Sid has become, while Sid struggles to control the drug empire he inherited from Gino. Slight AU/Very M
1. Chapter 1

In the eyes of a child, Hillwood was a paradise. As much of a paradise as an urban sprawl could be, Arnold Shortman supposed. Large stretches of the city were relatively safe, allowing one to roam around as one pleased. There was no shortage of arcades and candy shops and toy stores, spots where children would veritably blow their meagre allowance with glee.

As he gazed at the drawn face of his former friend with adult eyes, Arnold saw Hillwood was not a paradise by any means. Hillwood was like any other city: a presentable face with a foetid underside. Arnold looked away as the man, flanked by a bailiff, strode through the courtroom the best he could with his feet chained. His dark eyes were haughty, but haunted.

Arnold almost wished that he was nine years old again, playing baseball with the innocent child that man had once been.

But the Lord of Dogtown, Sidney Gifaldi, hadn't been a child for a long time. Arnold knew that man hadn't been innocent for a long time.

Lord of Dogtown

Arnold's heart was beating against his chest in a fearsome rhythm. Sometimes, he likened it to a war drum, but tonight, it just made him feel nervous. The hotel was sticky and damp and full of rot. There was a bulb at the very end of the hallway that kept flickering and he could hear distant screams. Arnold made sure the grip on his gun was sure before he looked up and nodded at his partner, his long time best friend, Gerald Johansen.

Gerald nodded in return and opened the door, gun out and ready in front of him. He crept into the room, eyes alert. Arnold followed.

They had been called here because someone had reported gunshots. It wasn't the first time they had been called to this hotel, it was a favourite of street walkers and other night creatures. After talking to the people around the hotel, they had pinpointed the room number the shots supposedly came from. No one had answered the door at their knock, so they were ready for trouble.

The room was dark and stank of cigarettes. Gerald jerked his head toward the bathroom door, where a thick crack of light was visible from under the door. Arnold swallowed and kicked it open, swinging his gun around the room. It stopped on a shaking, half-clothed form huddled in the bathtub.

"It's clear out here," Gerald called. "Someone's dead."

The form in the bathtub lifted its head up and Arnold saw that it was a young woman with wide, dark eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Arnold asked her, kneeling down to her level. She nodded, drawing away the arms around her middle to reveal a bloody stab wound. "The paramedics will be here soon."

"Hey, Arnold, get in here," Gerald said, his voice sounding urgent.

Arnold gave the young woman one last look, then stood up. With his gun preceding him, Arnold walked into the main area of the hotel room. There was a man, obviously dead, lying on the bed. His dress shirt was half unbuttoned and his visible chest was peppered with bullet wounds, so that the white shirt was stained red. Though it was coming undone, Arnold recognized the pompadour and the boyish, round face.

"Piras," Arnold said quietly.

"Yeah," Gerald breathed.

The keening of sirens came through the thin walls. Arnold nodded at Gerald again, who left the room to go greet the emergency responders who had just arrived. Arnold himself went back to the bathroom to stay with the young woman in the bathtub. He had no idea the extent of her injuries, she obviously had a deep puncture wound or could more seriously have a perforated bowel.

Arnold kneeled down next to the bathtub and put at hand on the woman's shoulder. She stared widely at him, red lips pursed tight and pain in her eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?" Arnold asked.

Her eyes flickered down to her bare feet, where blood was slowly winding its way.

"Miranda. Miranda Dennis," she said slowly.

"All right, Miranda, you're going to be okay, all right? Can you tell me what happened?"

"He was gonna... came at me angry-like with the knife. So I took his gun. Didn't die. Got me," Miranda said. "I won't be okay. Didn't know."

"You didn't know what?"

"That it was Gino," she lowered her lashes and gripped her stomach tighter.

"That doesn't matter. We won't let his guys get you," Arnold said.

Arnold got up when he heard the door open again. A stretcher was wheeled in, followed by a pair of paramedics, who immediately attended Miranda. Gerald surveyed the scene and let out his characteristic mm-mm-mm along with a shake of his head.

"Did you talk to her?" he asked of Arnold.

"Yeah, sounded like it was self-defence. He was going to do something to her, so she shot him. He stabbed her before he died, apparently," Arnold said.

Gerald shook his head again, "Well, if I was her, I'da shot the guy too. Thing is, that's Piras right there, they've been tryin' to get him for years. So who was Piras's right hand guy? Who's leadin' his men right now?"

Arnold's heart leapt up into his chest.

–

Sidney Gifaldi was a made man. He had spend most of his young life hungering for, lusting for, _needing_ money, and now he had it. Running around with Gino was one of the greatest decisions he ever made. Gino's operation inside school had been strictly small time. It was his operations outside school that really brought in the money.

At first, Sid had been scared. He realized that this was much bigger, much deeper, and much more illegal than anything he had ever done before, but once he saw how much money it made, he couldn't turn back. He figured that he was lucky, Gino had always liked him, and he was Gino's right hand man.

Gino liked him because Sid had a natural canny for ideas. His thinking was fresh in an operation that had long fallen prey to the same tactics. Sid was grateful that Gino liked him, because it saved him years of grunt work, labouring under Gino. Sure, he most likely had enemies because of that, but he was Gino's right hand man. No one dared touch him.

Sid rolled out of bed and stumbled over to his dresser, where a plentiful stock of liquor was kept. He poured himself out a tumbler of whisky. He was hungover. Very hungover. He had long maintained the idea that one of the best cures for a hangover was to never stop being drunk in the first place, and so far, he'd done very well utilizing said cure.

Once the whisky was imbibed and taking effect, Sid got dressed. Gino had a liking for dressing nice, no matter the occasion, and the mentality had rubbed off on Sid. Today he put on a suit, all black of course, setting off the monochrome ensemble with a red tie. Then he slipped on his familiar white winkle-pickers and placed his Omega watch on his wrist. He had never cared for Rolex's style.

He had business to attend to before he went to his nightclub.

On his way out of his room, he made sure to grab his pistol, which was sitting on the night stand. He dared not go anywhere without it.

–

"You better make sure he _gets_ the money then, or it's going to be pretty fucking painful for you around here," Sid said, starting out calmly but letting his voice rise to a shout as the threat came to an end. "Tell him then that he won't be getting any more of our products. Get guys to take what he has. Let his customers find him out for the rat he is."

"Yes, Sir," the man nodded earnestly before scrambling out of the room.

Sid hadn't been called by the name Sid for a long time. Around here, he was addressed as Sir and never anything else. He figured he couldn't be too careful. The fewer people to know his true name, the better. He had a number of other aliases, some normal, unassuming names, like John Piers and Andy Kisinger. Some of his aliases were words like Noir and Nose, although he had stopped using that last one. He thought of his nose as too distinctive, and had taken to covering up most of his face with a bandanna and shades when meeting people he thought untrustworthy.

To Sid, a name was disposable and meant to be dropped as soon as it started leaving traces. And in this business, everything left traces.

"Where is Gino?" Sid hissed at one of his closest men.

"We don't know, Sir. No answer at his house, and nobody knows his cellphone number but you, Sir," he whispered.

Sid rubbed his forehead, letting our an exasperated sigh. Someone always answered at Gino's house. If no one was answering at his house, then Sid didn't want to risk calling his cellphone. Goddammit, this changed everything. Gino was supposed to meet him today. A very large shipment was coming in, one of the largest they've had, and it was some of the purest shit Sid had ever laid eyes on. They were about to make a fortune.

"I'll call around, Sir," the man, Vince, brought out his phone.

"Good, fucking son of a bitch, Gino," Sid muttered, bringing out a cigarette and lighting it. "Heads are going to roll."

The room was hot and stuffy. It quickly became hazy, due to a ceiling fan circulating the smoke from Sid's cigarette around. The other man in the room, Marley, had lit a cigar and was puffing on it. Marley and Vince were Gino's long time friends and the only two men Sid trusted. They were intelligent and sharp-witted, but possessed enough muscle and brawn to scare anyone. Sid was nearly always with one of them if he wasn't with Gino.

Sid's razor sharp eyes locked on Vince when he cursed. He was still on the phone, but quickly shut it. He had a blazing look in his eye that Sid had never seen before and it made him nervous. Vince gave Sid a look that plainly said, "Things are bad."

He lit up a cigarette and took a few draws before speaking. Marley had actually put down his stogie, letting it smoulder in an ashtray. He wore a hard look on his round face.

"Gino's dead," Vince said.

"Jesus, mother fucker!" Sid stood up in shock, bringing his hands to his head to pull on dark hair.

He paced around the room, then stopped and punched the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the drywall. Sid spit out every curse word he knew, still unbelieving that such a mighty man had fallen.

"Who said?" Sid shouted at Vince. "Who said he's mother fucking dead?"

"Lucky, it's all over the damn newspapers if you want to check yourself. A streetwalkin' cunt shot him with his own gun."

Lucky was Sid's inside man. He worked for the police and was able to feed information about their plans to Sid. So the police had narcs. Sid had his own spy. He was lucky because he had never been convicted of any misdemeanour's or felony. He had never been caught. He was lucky.

Gino hadn't been so lucky. Sid had always said that women would be his downfall. They were nothing but trouble; they were gorgeous rats with conniving minds. And now Gino was dead, shot by one of the women he loved so much. That meant, that as the man in charge below Gino, Sid had now just inherited all of Gino's assets and responsibilities.

Sid was now in charge. In seconds, he had become one of the most powerful men in Hillwood. He was the one to run the show, to give the junkies their fix, to orchestrate rackets, and to extort. He was the King of Hillwood, and he wouldn't succumb to the same vices that Gino did.

Sid ran a hand through his hair and locked eyes with Marley, "Get men to his place now. Strip it. GO!"

Marley scrambled to his feet and was out the door. Sid watched it swing shut behind the retreating dress shoes. Once the door was shut, Sid turned and walked slowly to his desk, where his gun was resting. He picked it up. Vince stood, putting on his own jacket and grabbing his own gun.

Sid pulled open his drawer. Several gleaming bullets rolled forward, tumbling over one another. Sid grabbed one and held it up the light, letting it shine, before he placed it in his gun. When the weapon was fully loaded, Sid put it on his person. He threw on his jacket while sharing a look with Vince.

"Let's go. People need to know who their new Lord is."

–

Well, this is my new story, herp derp.

Hope it will be one of my more serious-toned stories, even though I don't really do humour in the first place...

Anyways, I try to write about things I know, but I'm obviously not a police woman nor am I a drug dealer. So I'm winging those things both. Tell me if things should be different.

Vince and Marley are the names I decided Gino's two goons have, but if they were mentioned as something different in the credits, let me know so I can fix it.

One of the residence hall coordinators showed up at my door this morning at about 9 am. I was like oh god what did I do now, I didn't do anything this time, but it turns out my bathroom was flooding because a pipe had broke on the seventh floor and it just happened to be 739, which is one of the numbers of the room I'm in. All the 39's bathrooms flooded, right down the first floor. So my makeup got ruined by dirty floor water, everything's wet, and I just spent half an hour cleaning all the rest of my stuff up and wiping down the walls.

YAY n_n


	2. Chapter 2

Sidney Gifaldi was mad. He was beyond mad. He was mother fucking _pissed_. Sid paced around his office, thumping bass from the club below seeping in through the walls. Right now, cops were outside the club, just ready to get in. And here he was, without his buffer, a man named Tim Eames, who was the one who in all technicality, owned the club. He was a fucking stool pigeon in Sid's mind, Eames gave nearly all of the profit to Sid in exchange for protection. This was Sid's club, not his. People gave Sid respect, not Eames.

But Eames wasn't here. He was out taking care of other business tonight. And now he was going to pay. He was going to fucking suffer! Sid was going to end that bitch.

There was a knock on the door. Sid swallowed hard and opened the door. Two cops were standing there, looking grumpy.

"Are you the owner of this club?" one of the officers asked.

"No, he's not here today," Sid answered, his voice utterly calm. "Is there anything I can do for you, officers?"

"Yes, sir, tell us your name and your business here, as well as the name of the owner."

"I'm Andy, Andrew, Kisinger. The owner's Tim Eames. I just help him with the day-to-day running of this place, you know, help plan events and find DJ's and things like that," Sid gave a small smile, hoping to look just the right amount of nervous as one could be, innocent, in front of a cop.

"Alrighty, Mr. Kisinger, do you have any form of ID on you?" the other cop asked, writing what Sid said down on a pad of paper.

"Oh, let me see," Sid felt around in his pockets. "Shit, I don't, I think I forgot my wallet at home today."

"Okay, can we have your address or phone number, Mr. Kisinger?"

"Why do you need my address, if you don't mind me asking? I'd really like to know why you're here. Did something happen out on the floor?" Sid's anger was about to bubble over, but he gave them the phone number of a whorehouse in the neighbouring city.

"No, sir, we're looking for a Sidney Gifaldi... he's been named as an accomplice of Gino Piras. He's been known to come here. Do you know anything about him?"

"Sidney Gifaldi? I haven't heard of him. I mean, if you gave me a description of him I could tell you if I've ever seen him here, but I really can't help you that much, officers, since I don't know him."

"Sure, about five ten, thin build, maybe hundred forty pounds, short black hair, brown eyes."

"That could be a lot of guys who come to the club, do you have any facial characteristics? I'm great at remembering faces."

"I wish I had a picture to show you, sir. He has a large nose, kind of long. Thin lips, round face, big ears. Tattoos on his arms."

Sid shook his head. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was sweating bullets. Never had he been so thankful that he had grown his hair out, or that he had lost the baby fat on his face, or that he had bulked up, or that he was wearing long sleeves. They must have been looking at an old picture of him.

His face had finally matured and he had a strong, square jaw now. That day he had contoured his face with make up, and his paranoia had come in handy. Thanks to the make up sitting on his face, his nose looked thinner and his cheeks more hollow with prominent bones. He was still praying that the two men standing in front of him truly believed that he was Andy Kisinger.

"Mmm, nope, can't say I've seen anybody exactly like him. Even if I didn't, I couldn't give you his whereabouts for the life of me. A lot of people come here, and I don't know what they do outside of the club itself."

"Okay, Mr. Kisinger. Do you know when Mr. Eames will be back?"

"I'd hate to call him up with this business this late at night, because tonight's one of the few he gets to spend with his family. He should be here tomorrow night, though, if you'd like to talk to him then," Sid said.

"We will. Please let him know that we will be stopping by soon. Thank you for your time, Mr. Kisinger."

Sid nodded, "Would you like me to show you out?"

"No, thank you," the cop who had been doing most of the talking nodded and tipped his hat, then left with his partner.

Sid shut the door behind them. When he was sure they had left, he turned and ripped the clock off the wall, throwing it as hard as he could against the opposite wall. It shattered against the brick, sending glass shards everywhere.

How? How did they get leads here? Who said he came here? Sid wanted to know the bastard's name. That cunt was dead. As soon as Sid learned his name, he was dead. He would be so mutilated that the police would have to use his mother fucking dental records to identify the shitsucker's body. Sid pursed his lips together and let out his breath forcefully. He was still seething.

–

Arnold Shortman sipped his cold, shitty coffee with disgust. Coffee at the station was about on par with coffee in a hospital, in other words, it was plain nasty. He set the cup down and looked up at the young face who was talking with him.

God, his job was affecting him. He was already calling someone roughly the same age as him a kid. Maybe it was the knowledge that any time he went into a shadier section of town, he could die. Maybe it was because he had already seen so many men die and had been to so many funerals that this kid who had never seen anything more exciting than paperwork seemed to be in a whole other class. He had hope. Arnold was loosing his.

"I can't tell you, Riley. We're really not getting any leads on Gifaldi, Callaghan, or Purcelli. They've disappeared from Hillwood. People like that... they know how to keep the cops out of their hair," Arnold told the young man who had stopped by to chat.

"That's crazy though, how sick people like that are running free," he said. "Well, I've got to get back to work, see you later, Arnold." He waved and walked off.

Arnold sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Two weeks later and they weren't any closer to finding Gifaldi or Piras's other two men. Everyone had hoped to find leads on him and apprehend him before he became too entrenched in his power, but it was true, he seemed to have disappeared from Hillwood. Maybe he was taking refuge in other cities. However, everyone on the east coast was on the look out for any sign of him or activity affiliated with him. Things had been unusually quiet.

The Hillwood City Police Department was in a race against the clock. There were rumours that Gino had or was getting a very large shipment of cocaine. Gino was known for his honesty, you knew exactly what you were getting into if you dealt with Gino. He sold the purest drugs, and that was how he had built his empire, stretching from New York to Florida, with offshoots found throughout the Midwest. The man had an eye for business, an eye that could have made him a great sum of money if he had gone into an innocent business.

But with someone else running the show, things could get ruthless. Callaghan and Purcelli were smart enough to take over, but they truly were leaders more than followers. Arnold had a gut feeling that Gifaldi had risen to take Piras's place, and Gifaldi was a hundred times more cruel than Piras.

Many murders had been linked to Gifaldi. He was a man you did not cross, and he was a natural leader, Arnold knew. He was easy to anger and not above cutting drugs with damaging substances to stretch his profit further. He had power from fear and money, and he knew how to throw his money around. If he was truly the man Gino had chosen as his second, things were going to turn into a shit storm, and fast.

–

Sid screwed up his face as it turned beet red. He snorted and leaned back, wiping his nose. He snorted again and looked over at Marley, who was waiting and watching.

"I cannot believe this shit. This is so fucking pure," Sid blinked rapidly as the drug started to take effect. "Okay, we're gonna cut it all. Get every fucking sucker we can to get this shit cut and packaged and ready for the street, got it?" Sid asked of Marley.

He nodded and went to give out orders to the men standing by, ready to distribute the very large shipment they had just received. Sid watched him for a few moments then pulled up the paper from beside him on the desk. A self-satisfied smirk formed on his lips when he saw the headline: _Nightclub Owner Dead; Brutal Murder_.

Eames deserved it, the fucker really did, putting Sid in such a dangerous position. To Sid's satisfaction, he read that they did indeed have to use dental records to identify the body. His satisfaction only increased as he read further into the article and found out that they had no leads on who the killer was. Sid would have done it himself, but he had the cops on his tail, so it was time to send someone else to pose as Andy Kisinger. And it wasn't like he needed the club's money, either. Besides, Sid had bigger things to attend to. He was about to make a shit-ton of money with this giant deal.

He put on his shades and tied a bandanna around his face, hiding his nose and chin area. Then he motioned to Vince, who nodded and quietly left the room. After a few moments he returned, dragging a bound and gagged man in by his dreadlocks. Vince threw the man to the floor and removed his gag, afterwards proceeding to stand sentinel by the door.

"You cock-sucking mother fucker, what does your bitch ass think you're doing?" the man spat, unable to fully bring himself upright due to his bindings.

"Shut up."

"I will not shut up, you ain't go no right bringin' me here and doin' this to me, bitch! I'mma get you and all yous stupid little gang, and you're gonna regret doin' this!"

"I said _shut up_." Sid whipped out his gun and shot the man in the leg.

The man cried out and fell over, curling up into the foetal position. His face was crumpled and he certainly was shut up. Vince stood watch while Sid towered over the man, eyes livid and face contorted in rage. Sid kicked the man in the stomach then circled around him, gun still pointed at his head.

"I regret nothing. I did what I had to do. You didn't pay. You attacked my men when we reclaimed what was ours, and you tried to sell us to the authorities. Gino might have given you more time to pay your debt, but I am not Gino. You are lucky you are not dead. We're all dogs, and I'm your Lord, so you listen to me, jackass. You have two weeks to pay what you owe. If you don't, you're dead. If you go to the authorities, you're dead. If you run away, we will find you, and you're dead. Get the picture?" Sid bent down and pressed his revolver to the man's temple. He didn't answer, so Sid pressed the gun harder into his flesh. "UNDERSTAND?" Sid shouted.

The man nodded. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and tears were trickling out of them onto the floor. Sid shook his head, rage still in his face, and stood up. After a moment's thought, he shot the man's other leg and laughed when he let out another heartbreaking cry of pain.

"Get rid of him," Sid said to Vince.

Vince's face was blank as he removed the man forcibly by the dreadlocks once again. Sid sighed and sat back down in his chair. Dealing with scum like that was always tiring. They were tiny lap dogs, barking and growling and trying to seem tough, but too dumb to realize that they were in front of a rottweiler ready to tear them to pieces.

He shook his head and looked down at his feet. Oh, fuck, there was blood on his shoes! Those shoes cost close to a thousand dollars. He really had to be more careful.

–

Sid's a giant asshole. I hope his behaviour seems reasonable, considering the business he's in and how long he's been in it. I want him to pretty much be his character on the show void of any redeeming characteristics with every bad one blown up to a kajillion.

I hope this is realistic enough writing, because I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing LOL.

**Edit 6/25/11**: Fixed continuity error and reworded a few awkward passages.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, babe, I have a surprise for you," Sid smiled at his long time girlfriend, Lila. She was a dumb little twit who could have done a lot better than him. But she loved him, if only because he gave her drugs. He didn't care. She was a good enough fuck for him and he wasn't about to go and sleep around with a whore after what happened to Gino.

Love didn't mean much to him.

"Oh, that's ever so nice of you," she smiled and stepped aside so he could come in.

Sid brought out the small sandwich baggie full of cocaine and put it in Lila's frail hands. He then sauntered over to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. She usually had a six-pack of some no-name, shitty beer. Sid freed a can from its plastic noose and popped the tab. He forced down the liquid, his tastes expecting a more palatable liquor.

"Don't do too much, it's the best I've ever had," Sid warned before draining the can in an almighty chug. The beer wanted to come back up, but he kept it down and proceeded to root around her kitchen for any other forms of alcohol.

Lila took some of the cocaine and placed it on her glass topped table, bringing out a razor blade to crush it into fine, powdery lines. Sid eventually found a bottle of wine in one of her cabinets, so he uncorked it and drank straight from the bottle. He found it to not be much better than the beer.

Sid remembered how they had met: Sid was out doing deals for Gino that night and one of his customers had been Lila. He was momentarily surprised, because she had always seemed like a good girl, but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered that she had always seemed just a little off. She had always seemed to be too good to be true.

Cocaine wasn't her drug of choice but she wasn't picky. Sid walked back to the living room and found her looking for a tooter. Sid sighed and brought out his wallet, handing her a bill to use. She didn't even look at it, but it was a hundred. How many lines did she have laid out? Six? One would be enough.

Sid reached out and destroyed the remaining lines with his fingertips once she had snorted the first line. He swept the powder onto the floor. Lila's head snapped up, a glare on her drawn face. Sid brushed off the dust from his fingers and took the bag from her.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, face still red and sniffing.

"I told you not to do too much, can't you feel the hit already? Jesus, you just get this look in your eye around drugs," Sid put the baggie on one of the broken ceiling fan's blade, so she couldn't reach it without some trouble. "That's nothing to me. Do you have any idea how much coke I sell a week? I sell seventy kilos, and that's in this fucking area! Two hundred kilos in New York, eighty kilos in Philly, let's not even talk about what I sell in New Jersey. That was nothing to me. I don't give a fucking shit. I could pot a plant with a kilo and it wouldn't make a difference to me."

"Who are you to tell me when enough is enough? I know when to stop," Lila said, but her voice trailed off and she sat down on the couch.

Sid knew the coke was starting to take effect. He sat down next to her and forcefully kissed her. She almost recoiled, but stopped.

"I pay for your apartment, your food, and your drugs. I give you everything, because I care about you. I think you should listen to me, because what I say is for your own good," Sid whispered to her, letting his tongue slip and fondle her earlobe. "Why do you have such nice clothes on right now? Because I bought them for you! Without me, you'd be a whore on the streets!" Sid shouted in her ear.

Lila screwed her face up and nodded. Sid smirked inwardly. She always had been weak willed. Why else would she be here? He pushed Lila down on the couch and enjoyed the feel of her in his hands and the feel of her against him. Sid freed himself from his pants and reached with a needy hand up Lila's skirt, yanking her underwear down roughly.

"You want this, right? You want me?" Sid asked, his voice low and poisonous.

"Y-yes, of course, S-babe," Lila quickly back-pedalled and corrected her mistake.

Sid was going to give it to her extra hard for that. She was such a dumb bitch, Sid thought.

–

Arnold surveyed the crime scene. It had happened not an hour before, in a usually safe section of town. People walking by stopped to stare at the man lying prone on the asphalt, sectioned off from the rest of the world by police cars and their flashing lights. Gerald was talking to witnesses while the scene was carefully photographed. Arnold turned back to the middle-aged woman who was an eyewitness to the crime.

"So, ma'am, can I get you to tell me what happened?" Arnold asked, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.

She nodded, twisting the fabric of her purse between her distressed hands. "I was just going to pick up my grandson from daycare, it's just a few blocks east, you know, and I was walking by and I saw that man on the street corner. He's always there, he just sells drugs and that's how he makes his living. Very nice man, he always offers to help me with my groceries... and these two guys come up to him. They both looked like thugs and they've got those big, saggy jeans on so you could see their underwear, I've never seen them around, and they just come up to him and start screaming at him about drugs. I think one of their sisters had died from a drug overdose. At least that's what I got from their shoutin'. So the man pulled out a knife, then I heard gunshots and the two men were running away. Someone called 911 and he sort of stumbled onto the street and fell over, then just didn't get up."

Arnold nodded and wrote everything that he could down. The woman still looked anxious and he expected that, as someone had just been murdered in her neighbourhood. She had thought that the neighbourhood was safe, and here was an example that it wasn't.

"Could you give me a better description of the two men?" Arnold asked. "More description of their clothes, stature, facial characteristics?"

"I'll do my best but everything is a bit fuzzy, officer," she let out a sigh and pushed away strands of hair that were plastered to her red face. "One was shorter, maybe five ten, and he had sort of a round face and a goatee, and a bit of an afro. I think he had a black shirt on, and red shoes. The other was, oh, god, I don't know, six one. He had a tattoo of something on his arm. I don't remember how he was dressed."

"Okay, thank you, ma'am. You may have to come down to the station for further questioning, but we will let you know when you need to do so. Go and pick up your grandson," Arnold flipped the notepad shut while giving the woman a nod.

Gerald walked over to Arnold once she had gone. Gerald shook his head and wiped his perspiring forehead.

"You know, if that's true, that girl is the eighth drug-related death this month. This is getting ridiculous. And they're not dying because they're dirty, they're dyin' 'cuz they're _clean_," Gerald said.

"I know. Whoever's running Piras's show either doesn't know what he's doing or wants to make a name for himself."

"That's what they say, he's 'Lord of Dogtown' now, and he wants people to know it. He may not be the hottest stuff in New York or DC, but here, he's got the city in the palm of his iron fist," Gerald gave the prone corpse a pitying glance.

Arnold let out a deep sigh. The call came over the radio that one of the subjects had been spotted, so Arnold and Gerald scrambled and got in their cruiser, rocketing off along with the other officers.

–

"...In other news, another man today has died from an overdose of cocaine. That marks the twenty-third death this month due to overdose. Police are investigating the reason for the sudden spike in drug overdoses. They suspect that it is accidental, from an unexpected increase in purity of the drug."

Sid shut off the tv and threw the remote onto his bed. He shook out his hair and continued tying his tie. One day, soon enough, they would be all talking about him. He would be all over the news. "Lord of Dogtown" would be the words on everyone's lips. But for now, this would have to do. He had years to get people to fear his name. And they would. He would make fucking sure of it.

"Lila!" he shouted while making sure his tie was straight, "get that sweet ass out here! Let's fucking go!" Sid threw on his suit jacket.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing a tight, strapless black dress and black patent leather platform heels. There was enough make up on her face that she looked almost like the beauty she had once been. Her red hair was elaborately curled. She was hot.

Sid whistled at her jeeringly before grabbing his car keys and phone. Lila snatched her clutch from the king-sized bed and followed Sid out of the apartment. They took the stairs down to the parking garage below the complex, where Sid unlocked his ostentatiously red Audi R8. He enjoyed the finer things in life; nice clothes, nice cars, nice houses, everything that had been denied to him in his childhood.

After spending the better part of a half hour battling the Friday night traffic, the couple arrived at their destination: a restaurant highly praised by critics and food connoisseurs alike. There normally was a long waiting list to get a reservation, but by pulling a few violent strings, Sid managed to make a large reservation for this night.

Sid stepped out of the car and handed the keys to the valet.

"If there is one scratch, ding or dent," Sid pushed back his suit jacket a little, just enough so that the handle of his pistol was visible to the poor boy.

The valet nodded, terrified eyes wide, while Sid walked around the car and opened the door for Lila. She took his hand and stepped out, wobbling a little. She was rather faded tonight. Sid strode with her into the restaurant and was immediately seated. Everyone else was waiting for him: Marley and Vince with their busty girlfriends, and several other important men in the business, some with their dates.

"Good evening," Sid said as he pulled out Lila's chair for her.

"Good evening, sir," everyone answered.

A waiter came by with water for everyone. Sid ordered wine enough for everyone. He lifted his glass in a toast, his face looking sinister in the low candlelight. The other men and women at the table lifted their glasses in response, waiting for Sid to speak.

"To many, many more good business deals," Sid said, proffering it to Marley.

All at the table clinked glasses, "To more good business deals."

–

Long time no update, huh? I have excuses: real life drama that is really quite ridiculous but still enough to piss me off, school, and a new boyfriend (blame him, he's the worst offender when it comes to time stealing).

Anyways, updates probably will be much much slower now unless I get a sudden crazy inspiration burst for my chaptered stories. There may be a few one shots lurking in me, though.


	4. Chapter 4

Arnold's heart was beating hard again. Even though he looked calm on the outside, he was awash with fears on the inside. He couldn't help it. He had been part of teams to execute search warrants plenty of times, but they still got him nervous, they still got his adrenaline going. This one got him extra nervous because they were going to the home of a well known dealer connected to the Lord of Dogtown, and he was a man known to be heavily armed.

Things were starting to get tense on the streets; arrests for drug possession had spiked dramatically, enough for the city to seem bathed in drugs. In other cities it was the same: a sudden influx of drugs. Arnold supposed Hillwood was lucky in that the Lord controlled the whole city and there were no cracks for other gangs to infiltrate. Gang wars were about to explode in other cities, because the Lord was sticking his fingers into areas that had long been controlled by other factions. Piras had recognised that and had done his best to work with the gangs while still maximising profit for himself, but whoever was on top now seemed to want complete control.

Arnold looked over at Gerald as they pulled up to the run-down house. He took one deep breath and burst out of the car, gun drawn. Both of them sprinted behind the more heavily protected officers. "Go go go go go go go!" Someone kicked open the door, screaming "Police search warrant!"

Arnold's nerves were on edge. His eyes roved everywhere as police fanned through the house, searching for inhabitants. Suddenly, gunshots were fired and shouts exploded from one of the bedrooms. Arnold was about to rush to assist, but he had just entered a room where a young woman was. Her lips were puckered and cheeks full; she looked just about to swallow something.

He rushed over to her and gripped her neck, struggling to keep his left side away from her hands. The woman's eyes widened when she realized she couldn't swallow. Another officer came over and assisted Arnold in handcuffing the woman. Arnold worked on getting her to spit out what was in her mouth.

Finally, she did. It was a small, plastic bag of heroin. Arnold closed his eyes for a second, then took the bag of heroin and the woman, bringing them to a more central location.

The house was a flurry of activity. Officers were turning over furniture and opening drawers, furiously searching the house. One officer was getting treated on-scene for what looked to be a graze from a bullet. Arnold put the bag of heroin on the coffee table, where a pile of drugs was forming. There were bags of marijuana, kilos of coke that had yet to be packaged, and hundreds of pills. This was the biggest amount of drugs that Arnold had ever seen and it was almost making him sick, knowing that it was about to go out on the street.

–

"Lucky said Pendle just got busted," Marley was chewing on a cigar while he, Vince, and Sid talked. "They just got the warrant today. He's probably getting his house raided right now."

"Son of a bitch! I should kill that cocksucker for getting his ass caught," Sid swirled the contents of his highball class around.

"I'm sure he's feelin' pretty bad right now, watching the fuzz tear up his house," Vince shuffled through handwritten notes. "So, who's gonna take over Pendle's responsibilities? He distributed to dealers all over that south side and suburbs, and that's one of our biggest areas."

"I don't know, move Jefferson up and bring Thurston over," Sid drained his glass.

"Thurston's got such a record, we'd be boned if he was caught over there," Marley said. "He'd get arrested as soon as he set foot on the south side."

"Then just let Jefferson do it, he's a smart kid and can handle it."

"All right. I'll get the call out," Vince made a note.

"Now lay it out, what are the numbers this week?" Sid lit up a cigarette.

Marley handed Sid a large stack of detailed sales reports. Sid overlooked them all, his cigarette growing smaller as it smouldered down. Finally, he set the papers down and let out a string of curse words.

"Why isn't all that coke gone? It's all over the east coast, it should have sold!"

"You fuckin' know we took a gamble, it's only been sellin' steady. It'll be gone by next week. Besides, that's been covered by pills and prescription stuff, you really got to get more of those. We got demand we can't meet," Vince said.

"Fine, fine," Sid took a look at the papers again. "Get more painkillers, Adderall, whatever's selling good. Meet the fucking demand."

"You got it, boss. What are we going to do about meth? It's a market we can't get into, it's already too established for even us to take control."

"I'm not worried about it, getting control of the meth market would only be the icing on an already profitable cake. Try seeing if we can be the... protection for them. Y'know, they give us some of their profits for our power... our lawyers. We can buy off anybody at the right price or notion."

"Now what do we want to do about gang relations... we lost three men in a fight in Trenton yesterday."

–

Arnold rubbed his head. It had been a rough day. But he was off patrol now and all he had to do was turn in the day's reports and he could go home. The station was still a flurry of activity, as it was a Friday night and things were hot. However, the corridor he was walking down was deserted.

As he passed someone's office, he heard something that caught his ear.

"Now just remember our sweet little chat, Harry, and every Friday, this dough is yours. Every Friday. Isn't it a month's salary?"

"I'll remember, now just get out of here," a disheartened voice said.

Arnold swallowed and started walking again, his grip on the folder a little tighter. The door to the office opened and a man he had never seen before strolled out.

"What are you looking at, football head?" he spat.

"Nothing," Arnold said, noting that the man's uniform seemed off.

"Keep it that way," the man strode down the hallway and out of sight.

Arnold wondered if he should report this, but the man, Harry Iverson, was the darling of the police force. If Arnold said anything, it would be shrugged off. He let out a sigh, he had always had a feeling that there was widespread corruption of the force, but now, he just had solid proof of it. It only disheartened him knowing that even if he said something about it, it wouldn't be looked into.

–

Tonight was going to be a fun night, Sid knew. Normally, it wasn't his style to call a night spent with whores fun, but he was celebrating a special day today, Marley's birthday. They had already had an extravagant dinner at the best restaurant in town and now it was time for some good old-fashioned fun.

They knew the owner of the strip club personally, he was a long time friend of their organization. The man was old and hunched now, with a fondness for morphine. His name was Yves and he had a keen eye for beauty and a keen mouth for convincing. Sid had never been disappointed by one of his girls.

The entire club was full of men sipping drinks and getting their fill of sensuality. Yves lead their group to a small, private room in the back. It was their room. No one else was ever allowed in here. The room was warmly lit and plushly furnished, it was comfortable, but there was still enough room to move around.

In honour of his special day, Sid sat Marley in the chair that was usually reserved for Sid himself. Sid thought that perhaps Marley looked happy, but it was tough to tell with that man, who was perfect at keeping his face stoic. Once everyone was seated, drinks were served. Yves saw to it that everyone in the group was settled before taking his leave to send in the girls.

"You will not believe these ladies, Callaghan," Sid said to Marley. "I hand-picked them."

Marley grunted and took a sip of his beer. "Then they'll be mind-blowing, Sir."

"You got it," Sid grinned and finished his rum and coke.

Today he had loosened up a little and dressed like the attractive man he knew he was. A loose black sweater draped his torso, exposing hints of the toned chest beneath. Leather bracelets wrapped around his wrists that lead to hands decorated with thick silver rings. He wore slim boot-cut khakis, the tapered leg ending with winkle-picker clad feet. With sunglasses on to his his eyes and several days worth of stubble on his hollowed cheeks, Sid knew he could have the pick of any one of the fine ladies Yves was about to send in. But the finest would be Marley's.

Sid leaned back in the chair when the lights dimmed. With a thumb resting on his chin and a forefinger on his cheek, he watched the women stride in. They all looked similar to each other: long legs, tan, and busty, with lithe bodies.

A woman with dark, flowing hair and captivating grey eyes strode up to Marley, sitting down in his lap.

"So, you're the birthday boy?" she smiled and let her eyes flash at Marley.

"I am," Marley answered, still as stoic as ever.

"Well, then we have a _treat_ for you," her voice was a low purr.

The music started. Marley sat back and watched as the woman gave him the best lap dance Sid had ever seen. The other women provided entertainment for the other men, dancing suggestively and performing pole dances. Fuck, these ladies were good. And Sid meant it, he already felt his need pressing against his pants.

The need only got stronger as he watched their gyrating hips and shaking breasts, seeing their dishevelled hair cling to their glossed lips and sweat appear on their chests. He wanted to be in them, he wanted them to be full of his cock, he wanted to make them _scream_. He didn't care if it was from pain or pleasure.

One by one, the ladies disappeared with a member of their party for an even more private dance. Marley vanished with the girl who had captivating grey eyes. Sid was jealous, but it was Marley's birthday after all. Finally, he was the last one left in the room. The last dancer cocked her head sideways slightly and gave him a coy smile, stretching her red lips wide. Sid bet those lips could take his cock.

He sent an equally coy smile back and got up, following the woman up to a small room with a tiny, but comfortable looking bed. She shut the door and pushed Sid back onto the bed with the tips of her manicured fingers. Sid leaned back against the wall and watched her dance. Slowly, seductively, pieces of clothing were stripped away until she was completely naked.

At that point, Sid couldn't stand it any more. He rose up from the bed and in a deft motion had cornered the dancer. Sid pinned the girl against the wall by the wrist, heavily grinding his hips against hers. She let out a surprised noise. Sid placed a few hungry kisses on her neck.

"I don't know if Yves has told you... but I am a very important man, and I always get what I want, and right now, I _want_ you," Sid grabbed her hand and placed it just above the small of his back, so she could feel the handle of his pistol.

The girl let out another surprised noise and began to tremble. Sid didn't care. He captured her mouth in a rough kiss, sucking on her beautiful glossed lips, biting them. He dug his nails into her back until they came back grazed with her blood. Once he had satisfied himself with that, he threw her on the bed and undressed, exposing his hard member.

After fondling the girl roughly for a few minutes, Sid pushed her up against the wall and plunged into her, moving his hips at a pace which felt fantastic for him, but that he knew was painful for the girl. Sid grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, pulling her hair as hard as he was slamming into her. He continued with her until she started screaming. It was music to Sid's ears.

When he had had his fill of her, Sid got dressed again and left her shaking in the bed.

–

I'm on spring break, hooray! Also, yes, this is a little more explicit than I usually write, but then again, this story is in general more explicit that I usually write. That's why it's rated M.

Sid's a horrible man and Hillwood is a crapsack world, indeed.

**Edit 6/25/11: **Fixed mistakes and changed the wording of a few areas.


	5. Chapter 5

"Our top story tonight, the proverbial 'Lord of Dogtown' has finally been identified. Authorities recently learned from a man, who wishes to remain anonymous, that a man named Sidney Gifaldi is leading one of the biggest crime syndicates on the east coast, after the death of former leader Gino Piras. The names of other high-ranking members in the organization are still unknown. If you have any information on Gifaldi or the organization led by him, please contact the police department without hesitation."

Arnold heard the tv from the kitchen and set down the bowl on the counter. His wife gave him a strange look that he didn't see. He wandered into the tv room, heart pounding in his chest. The news anchor was still talking about Gifaldi. Arnold turned up the sound and sat down in front of the couch.

"Gifaldi is wanted for multiple counts of murder and attempted murder, extortion, drug and human trafficking, and racketeering, among other charges. He is armed and extremely dangerous."

The tv showed the mug shots of a young teenager with scraggly black hair, two black eyes, and dried blood on his lips. Unlike most mugshots Arnold had seen, there wasn't a tired, washed out look on his face. Instead, his eyes were fierce and there was a smug smile playing on his lips, like he was proud he had been arrested.

"He was first arrested in 1998 for assault and possession of marijuana with intent to distribute. These mugshots are the last known photos we have of Gifaldi..."

"Love, what's so important on the tv?" his wife had been in the tv room for who knows how long.

Her hands were on his shoulders, rubbing gently to try and keep the stress at bay. Arnold put a hand on top of hers, letting out a big sigh.

"Gifaldi. He's the one we're after."

"What makes him different from any other criminal?"

"Because he's... I... we went to school with him and I can't believe this is how he turned out. I could have stopped all this... He wasn't sure if it was worth being Gino's friend, and I guess I didn't do everything I could to show him that I was the one who was his friend, not Gino!" Arnold rubbed his forehead.

He hadn't thought about that day for years. Not until recently, when shit started to hit the fan. And now it was racking him with guilt because he knew, he _knew_ that all of this, all the deaths and injuries and crime could have been prevented, if only he had _done_ something more!

–

"Who's it gonna be, Sid, him, or me? Who's your friend?" Big Gino's dark eyes bored into Sid, who looked like he was feeling the pressure of the decision.

Sid gave Arnold one terrified glance, then threw the camera at the goon who wasn't keeping a death-grip on Arnold's arms. After that, Arnold noticed a changed look on Sid's face. He couldn't put words to how the young boy's face had changed, but it was different. Meaner perhaps, maybe a little more broken. But he didn't truly know.

"You take the picture. Give Arnold to me," Sid said, his voice shaking a little.

The boy who was holding Arnold passed him to Sid. Arnold couldn't recall where Sid got the strength to carry him to the toilet, where Arnold was forced on his knees and his head placed as much in the toilet as it could be. The lever was depressed and Arnold spent the next few seconds trying to keep toilet water out of his mouth while it went up his nose. There was a bright flash and the sound of a Polaroid being dispensed.

Arnold coughed and pulled his dripping head out of the toilet, giving Sid a look that he hoped conveyed how betrayed he felt. Sid had given him a swirly. He had giving up a friendship for a kid he had just met. For what? What would Gino offer him that would be worthwhile? Money? A semblance of power over elementary kids? That was nothing compared to the friendship Arnold had extended to Sid, nothing.

"Here, Gino," Sid said, voice flat as he handed the Polaroid to Gino.

Gino took it from Sid and smirked, letting out a chuckle. Arnold just coughed again and wrung out his hair, still kneeling by the toilet. The two goons got a look at the picture and guffawed. Sid looked down at the ground and pushed around water on the floor with his toe.

"Good shot, Sid, good shot. Now, let's go, we have business to discuss," Gino said, putting his arm around Sid's shoulder.

So they all left, leaving Arnold there, dripping wet and miserable. Arnold tried to shrug it off, saying that it was just Sid, he had always been flighty, and it no time he would be pulling pranks with Stinky and Harold again. That kid could bounce back.

But Arnold had proved himself wrong. Each time he saw Sid, he was with Gino, at his right hand. Sid would always look away, never meeting Arnold's eyes. At any other given time, Sid's face would be haughty, a smug expression playing on his features, because he knew that people had begun to fear him, just like they feared Gino.

–

"Arnold, please, you gotta talk to Sid, he's getting' mixed up with the wrong fellas and nothing we say to him will get him to stop hangin' with Gino," Stinky said.

He had pulled Arnold aside at recess one day, begging Arnold to do something about Sid. Arnold cringed at the sad look on Stinky's face, it was obviously painful for him to loose his closest friend to the school hustler.

"Stinky, I already tried and he willingly gave me a swirly. I think his choice is pretty clear," Arnold said.

"Please, Arnold, I'll get down on my knees and beg if I hafta," Stinky said.

Arnold sighed and put his hand on Stinky's shoulder.

"Okay, I'll talk to him," Arnold said.

–

"Hey, Sid, can we talk?" Arnold called out to Sid as they were both leaving the building for the day.

Sid turned, about to get on the bike with Gino. He looked at Gino, who narrowed his eyes, but nodded. Sid shut the door on Gino's sidecar, then walked over to Arnold, still gazing downward.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You, and what you're doing. Why do you still want to run around with Gino?" Arnold asked.

Sid swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck, then put his hands on Arnold's shoulder and leaned in.

"Because I have everything I've ever wanted. Don't take this away from me," Sid whispered and pushed Arnold back roughly, making the blond boy take a few steps back to keep from falling.

Sid then walked calmly to the bike and hopped on. Arnold heard Gino ask what all that was about. He barely caught what Sid said back, but the words were just barely audible as the two young boys rode off.

"I'm just setting that kid straight on who I want to be friends with, and Gino, you're the only friend I need."

–

"Tell me why we should make you, when just now, my own identity has been exposed by some lowlife cunt!" Sid towered in front of the poor man sitting in the chair.

Marley and Vince stood on either side of Sid, pistols drawn and ready to shoot. Sid threw a smouldering glare at a man by the door, who looked like he was seriously regretting this decision.

"Or maybe, since you seem to have no fucking spine, I should ask Johnson to explain, since the last man he brought us to make was the same fucker who sold me out," Sid said, voice poisonous. Sid locked eyes with Johnson, who tried to hold the stare, but had to drop it. "Explain, Johnson. NOW."

"He's... he's in with the police force. We can't rely only on Lucky to get info, we need other people to give us a broader rage. Half the time, Lucky doesn't even deal with stuff concerning us. They have their own special force for that and he's on it."

"A valuable asset, but I smell a narc," Sid said slowly, drawing out his revolver from its holster. In a swift move, the safety was off with his finger on the trigger as the barrel got pressed to the man's forehead. "Why don't you tell me what the police-ies are planning with us, or I'll blow your Goddamn head off."

"They," the man gulped and no one paid any attention to the unmistakeable smell of urine that flooded the room. "They're going to bust... they..."

Sid cocked his head and pulled the hammer back.

"They found your apartment! They're going to bust it!"

"That's all?" Sid started laughing and looked at both Marley and Vince, who let out chuckles. "Good fucking luck, my apartment is as clean as any law-abiding citizen's. Now tell me something I want to know."

"That's, that's all I know! I don't know anything else! Oh god, please, don't, don't kill me! I don't want to die!"

"What a waste, Johnson," Vince muttered, then after sharing a look, pointed his gun at Johnson, making a beckoning motion with his finger.

"Let's sweeten the deal a little," Sid said, putting his free hand on the man's shoulder, then gripping it hard enough that the man let out a groan of pain. "You tell us everything you know, or we'll kill Johnson too. You wouldn't want his blood on your nice little coat, would you?"

"Why... I t-told you all I know! Why are you going to kill him too?"

"Because," Sid hissed, using the barrel of his gun to push the man over and firing into the wall, "you should know this. I'm the motherfucking Lord of Dogtown! I rule over dogs, and I'm the worst of them all. If I have to spill innocent blood to get what I want... what I fucking deserve, I will. Besides, this sorry fuck of a man knew what he was getting into when he signed up with us. You, and you," Sid pointed at Vince and Marley, refraining from using their names, "search him."

The two men nodded, then descended upon the man. He struggled, but he was no match for the sheer amount of muscle Marley and Vince possessed. Sid took this opportunity to stride over to Johnson, who recoiled at the harsh look his boss was giving him.

Sid put his arm around Johnson like he was an old friend, but roughly pushed his head to the side so that Sid's mouth was right next to Johnson's ear.

"Now tell me, what were you thinking bringing a man we barely know anything about to meet me face to face? Are you high as shit? Because I wouldn't kill you for that. I would just make sure you got the living shit beat out of you!"

Johnson swallowed, "Sir, I'm pretty sure he's a fucking narc."

"And you expect me to off him? You could have done that yourself, you pisser."

"I..."

"Damn straight you don't have a fucking explanation," Sid pushed Johnson into the nearest wall, hard. "One thing you better get straight is that I am not Piras. I don't have all of his little connections. I can't go off letting little mistakes happen, because I do not have the same network he did to cover for stupid SHIT LIKE THIS! YOU WANT ME TO GET CAUGHT, DON'T YOU, JUDE?"

"Sir, calm down," Vince lightly laid a hand on Sid's shoulder.

Sid looked sidelong at Vince, gave him a glare, then stepped back and fixed his tie. Vince stepped up and held Johnson against the wall by his neck, leaving the man's legs dangling. Sid smirked as he coughed and sputtered.

"Beat him within an inch of his life," Sid told Vince, rolling his sleeves back down.

He then strode over to Marley, who had the alleged narc stripped naked. The man was kneeling on the dirty floor, covering his shame with his hands. Marley had a hard look on his face and very few items in his hand.

"Wallet, brand new, no ID, sixteen dollars in cash, no credit cards, and two pictures of a woman and a baby girl," Marley said as he held up the wallet in question. Sid took it and pawed through it, finding exactly what Marley said it contained. "Cellphone, several years old, no texts, no pictures, call log empty, and contacts named things like 'wife' and 'brother' lead to disconnected numbers."

"Very suspicious," Sid said, taking the cellphone as well and checking it like he did the wallet.

"I think so. You want this rat shot?"

"Yes. Don't kill him right away, just make him suffer. I want him to bleed out," Sid took the sixteen dollars from the wallet, then threw both the wallet and cellphone on the floor, crushing the cellphone under his foot.

Marley nodded; Sid grabbed his jacket from the floor and put it on, leaving the room. He smirked as he heard gunshots ring out. But he didn't stop to wait for Vince or Marley, he just put on his shades and got in the car that was waiting for him outside the warehouse.

–

He hadn't done something like this for a while, Sid thought. But he needed it, after all the stress of what had been happening lately. It was tough making himself scarce. Gino had made it look easy, even as scandals rocked him, he strode down the street in confidence, but Sid couldn't do that. The whole police force was fanning the city, looking for him.

He chuckled when he remembered how that fucking narc had said they had found his apartment. That was a hole in the wall place in the slums of downtown. The apartment he lived in now was technically owned by a poor soul under his wing. Like he would be stupid enough to go there now that Pendle, that fucking squealer, had leaked his name.

Once the bastard thought he was safe in jail, Sid was ordering a hit on that mother fucker. You squeal, you _die_.

He turned back to the task at hand, a syringe full of heroin. Sid flicked the syringe several times to loosen any air bubbles, then slapped his arm, getting the vein, already bulging from the tourniquet, to stand out more. He plunged the needle into the vein, then jacked back, letting his lip draw into a sneer as dark red blood mixed with the heroin. He was in. Sid undid the tourniquet and pushed the plunger down, letting the drug flood into his veins.

After pressing a piece of toilet paper against the needle puncture for several minutes, Sid took himself from his bathroom to his bedroom, tossing his body on the bed. He closed his eyes and grinned as the euphoria washed over him. He really needed this. He just had to remember the cardinal rule of this trade: never get addicted to what you sell.

Sid had laid there for who knows how long, eyes drooping and sleepiness washing over him until his eyes sprung open and he was wide awake.

A shadow flew across the wall opposite the window and Sid scrambled for his gun, but only found the knife he kept in his bedside drawer. He got to his feet and held the knife high, eyes darting around the room.

"Ruysch? Is that you? Come out here, you dirty bastard," Sid found himself saying.

He shook his head, mind spinning. Ruysch couldn't be here. Ruysch was dead, and had been for years. He was the first man Sid had ever killed.

–

"Sid, come here, come closer, we have something to talk about," Gino said, putting a hand on Sid's arm.

Sid nodded and drew back from the two men he was talking with, secretly glad, because the men were employees of Gino's father, and frankly, scared him. Gino had walked out of the spacious living room of his house and onto the balcony. Sid followed, and at a nod from Gino, shut the French door behind him.

It was silent for a second while Gino lit up a cigarette with a match. He offered one to Sid, who took it with a small nod of thanks. Sid lit his with his zippo.

"There's this guy, Sid, you know him, I'm sure. Anthony Ruysch?" Gino, while was still a head shorter than Sid, could put fear in Sid with one look.

"I do. He buys from us."

"He _did_." Gino said, voice calm but still expressing his extreme displeasure with Ruysch. "I was willing to give him time to pay us back, on the condition that he takes no more for us, but last night, he stole over two thousand dollars worth of dope from us, and that is _not_ acceptable. Kill him."

"Two thousand? That son of a bitch cunt, he is a fucking—" Sid started.

"I know," Gino cut his rage-filled curse off by raising his hand. "That's why I want him dead. You'll do this for me, won't you, Sid? Because you've been my right hand man for several years now, and you know that many people are... displeased with my choice. I don't doubt your loyalty to me, but others do. Please prove to me that I'm not making a mistake keeping you at my right hand."

Gino broke his eye contact with Sid and turned, walking to the railing. He put his hands on the rail and spent several minutes pensively overlooking the small backyard. Sid nervously smoked his cigarette until it had burned down so much it singed his fingers and he dropped it with a yelp.

Actually kill a man? How could he do that? Selling drugs was one thing, but there was no way he could willingly, forcefully take a man's life!

But he had to. He had come too far with Gino to back out now. He had burned too many bridges.

"I'll do it, Gino."

Gino turned back around and looked at Sid, deciding he was being sincere. He gave Sid a small smile, then reached underneath his suit jacket and pulled out a pistol, handing it to Sid.

"Use this. You know where he lives. Go now."

Sid took the pistol and put it in the band of his pants. He nodded at Gino, then returned to the party only to quietly sneak his way out. He walked all the way to Ruysch's house, heart pounding and stomach churning. His hands were sweating profusely. He jumped at any odd sound he heard, but too soon for his liking, Sid found himself at Ruysch's stoop.

He really didn't want to kill Ruysch. He was a good kid who had shit going on that was preventing him from paying. Sid really couldn't believe that he would go as far as to steal from Gino though, how desperate was Rusych? He was a good kid who had gotten in over his head.

Just like Sid.

His mind flashed back to when he had to choose between Arnold and Gino, and now he was forced to do it again. It was too late to back out now. Gino was too good to him. Gino had taken him under his wing, shown him everything he needed to know. Gino had made him. He was rich because of Gino. Sid knew he was making the right choice by choosing Gino, because he would be killed himself if he backed out now.

Sid steeled himself before knocking on the door. After a second, Ruysch opened it.

"Nose, what are you doing here? Please don't tell me you're here to try and collect for Piras. I don't have the money! I won't have the money!" Ruysch's eyes were wide and dilated.

Sid stepped inside past Ruysch. The pistol felt so heavy, like it would rip through his belt and drop to the floor. The metal almost felt hot to the touch. Sid pointed to the living room, Ruysch obediently followed the order and sat down on a ratty chair. Sid walked behind him, keeping on hand over the pistol.

"I'm not here to collect for Piras. He's past trying to get money from you," Sid's voice was cold and his eyes blazed. "I'm here to kill you, cunt."

Before Ruysch could do anything, Sid had drawn the pistol and pulled the trigger. The sound left Sid's ears ringing.

Sid gagged but kept his sick in. He had blown off half of Ruysch's face. The boy was gurgling. He reached out a struggling hand toward Sid, who turned and fled, leaving the house at breakneck speed and not stopping until he had reached Gino's house.

Once he stopped and caught his breath and clutched at his side, Sid realized tears were streaming down his face and there was splattered blood and body matter on his suit. He wiped the tears off his face, then did the best to clean off his suit.

Gino appeared at the window. Once he caught sight of Sid, he was outside with him in a few seconds. Gino took the pistol from Sid and replaced it in his jacket. He took one look at how distraught Sid looked, then gave him a sympathetic look. Putting his arm around Sid, Gino led him inside.

"You're a true brother to me, Sid. I know you're one of us, and I can trust you," Gino said quietly, kissing both of Sid's cheeks. "Now, come, come, we should get you cleaned up."

Sid nodded, not saying a word. He let Gino bring him up to his room and dress him in clean clothes, all the while thinking of Ruysch sitting there in his living room, missing half his face.

Sid had only been seventeen.

–

Here we delve into the past to see how a few things have played out in Arnold and Sid's lives.

I'm also thinking that this story will end with about ten chapters, give or take around two. I just can't write that much :(


	6. Chapter 6

Sid woke up to the sound of his cellphone vibrating on the bedside table. He groped around in the dark for it, finally landing his hand on the device. Sid answered the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we need to go to New York," it was Marley.

"Why," Sid's voice conveyed the fact that he was not pleased at being woken up at this hour.

He looked over at Lila, sleeping next to him peacefully, while he waited for Marley to give him a reason. Lila looked even more strung out when she was asleep. Sid knew she would never get over her addictions. He almost regretted being with her, because she was nothing more than a hole to fuck these days, but he didn't really care. He didn't expect much out of her.

"It's not good. Families on the east coast feel like you're stepping into territory that has been theirs previously. They're not happy."

"When do we have to meet with them?"

"Noon today."

"It sounds like a trap. How long have you known?"

"I just got the call now, Sir. It is eight am,"

"I know what time it is," Sid snapped. "If they are really so angry about it, they can meet here with us on our own terms. I'm not walking my ass into anything that sounds like something set up by the police."

"They will not come on such short notice. We don't have a good stance with them, not enough to change the terms of this meeting."

"Fuck the Mafia and their code of honour. Tell them they come here or I'm not meeting with them at all."

"Very well, Sir," Marley said before hanging up.

Sid made a noise of anger, then threw his phone back on the bedside table. He wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now. He figured he might as well get a head start on his day, as it was one that was sure to be busy.

Today he was negotiating the deals of several large amounts of drugs, and he wasn't going to miss the chance to buy at the price he was getting. Gino would be proud, he always could drive a hard bargain. He had always relied on Sid to hash out hard deals.

At a soft sigh and the rustle of sheets, Sid looked behind him and saw that Lila was awake. Fuck. He had probably woken her up with the phone call.

"Morning, babe," she rubbed her eyes and sat on the bed, hunched over and looking ill.

"What's wrong with you? Go too hard last night?" Sid got up and stretched.

"No," Lila turned the corners of her delicate mouth down.

Sid ignored her, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv to a local news station. It was covering nothing interesting, just the morning commute and what intersections to avoid due to accidents. He sat back down on the bed, then took up the remote and changed the channel until he came across a news station that was covering something he wanted to hear: a story about him and his dogs.

"Early this morning in the Bronx, a man, identified as being of the New York faction of a Hillwood-based crime syndicate, was found dead in his apartment's stairwell. An autopsy will be performed to determined the cause of death, which is unknown. Investigators do not have a current suspect, but believe it to be a member of a rival gang. High tensions between the Hillwood-based syndicate and other more established gangs have been erupting into killings such as these. Local authorities are beginning to corroborate with the FBI to bring down the head of the syndicate, who has already been placed on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list."

Sid let out a laugh and slapped his thigh, "Ha! I made the fucking Top Ten!" After that outburst, he sobered up and took his phone in his hand, dialling Vince's number.

"Yes, Sir?" Vince answered.

"Did you hear? I made the FBI's Ten Most Wanted."

"I didn't, Sir. You'll have to be more careful, now that the Feds are involved."

"I know, that's not what I wanted to talk with you about. Do you know who was killed today in the Bronx?"

"No, Sir, but I will find out. Will you be going to New York to work on our relations?"

"Fuck, they can come here if they want to meet with me that bad."

"You could always send a representative. You don't have to go in person."

"I honestly think it's a trap set up by the Feds. If I send someone else and they get caught, they'll squeal."

"But it's the Mafia, sir—"

"It could be the fucking boss of bosses of the _Vory V Zakone_ and I wouldn't come. I'm not stupid, I know that my power is nothing compared to theirs. If I have to meet with them, I want it to be on my terms, so I come out on top!"

"Yes, Sir," Vince said, sounding disillusioned.

"Very well, we're still meeting at ten, so I expect you both to be there, along with the usual."

"Yes, Sir, I will see you soon then, good bye," Vince hung up.

Sid could tell he was angry about the decision Sid was making, but he didn't care. He had a terrible feeling in his stomach about New York, and he knew he was making the right choice staying in Hillwood. Besides, Sid didn't need the help of any other organization, one day he would have absolute control! Everyone would answer to him and he would be one of the most ruthless, powerful people in the world. That was the only thing he wanted. The power he had now was nothing like he wanted. He needed more!

–

"Brilliant idea, Sid, absolutely brilliant," Gino's face had lit up and was more alive and full of expression than Sid had ever seen it. "This is why you will take over after me."

Sid grinned and shook Gino's hand when the young man proffered it.

They sat in Gino's Aston Martin, plotting how to kill Gino's father. Gino felt his father had become a threat to Gino's own illicit trade, and he desperately wanted the immense power of his father, Stefano Piras. Gino wanted to do it quickly and cleanly, with a gun, but Stefano was a powerful attorney who also underhandedly controlled the dark corners and alleys of Hillwood. Any outright assassination attempt would not be met kindly.

Sid suggested, since Stefano was an alcoholic, to get the man drunk enough that he vomited, and once he had passed out, use his own vomit to choke him, so his death was not obviously foul play. It was disgusting and dirty, but Sid knew it would work. Stefano didn't need an excuse to drink.

Gino had at first shook his head and turned the idea down, but after thinking about it, the young man thought that it was a perfect course of action. Even though it was sly move, it wouldn't cause near as much attention as taking a gun to his head. Besides, it was well know that Stefano loved his alcohol more than his wife. He had already been hospitalised once before due to complications from drinking.

"September twenty-first, he's having another event with his associates. He wants me to be there; it would be a perfect time to make our move," Gino mused, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one with a match.

Sid was surprised that Gino had said _our_ like he was including Sid in this. It sent a shiver up his body, thinking about what things would be like when they were the ones on top, running Hillwood instead of Stefano. At that moment it really hit him what he was doing: he was plotting to kill the most powerful man in Hillwood.

Stefano Piras had more power than the mayor. He was the one who passed the laws, elected the officials, and dictated what the police force did. He held influence that reached all the way to the capitol, Sid had privy knowledge from Gino that most of the decisions made by the representatives and senators had been because of immense bribes from Stefano. The police chief was a long-time friend of Stefano. Many a criminal had gone free because he was one of Stefano's men.

Sid felt nearly giddy at the thought of having that kind of power. _He_ could be like that. He could get federal laws passed that favoured him and his investments, he could use his money to twist the law enforcement, mould the officials, and control every aspect of the city, the state, the east coast!

Now he knew why he had stuck this lifestyle out: it was everything he had ever wanted. The power was intoxicating, he never wanted anything else. It was the only thing that would bring him happiness. It was the only thing he craved like an addict and it was the only thing he was going to strive for in everything he did from this moment on.

"You know that you're the one Stefano has named to take over?" Sid asked, bringing out his own pack of cigarettes, body still coursing with excitement about what they were going to do.

"No, but I will take down anyone in my way until I get to the top," Gino's voice was harsh and ruthless.

He was completely serious, Sid knew. If he didn't take Stefano's position right away, they were in for a long and bloody struggle. Sid was prepared for that. He would do anything to get Gino to the top.

–

"All right, Johanssen, let's check this out," Gerald Johanssen's training officer, Sargent Vander Plaats, said before radioing in with dispatch.

Gerald nodded, still feeling nervous. He had only been on the job for two weeks, so he hardly had any idea what he was doing. They had been called to the Piras household due to a report of someone unconscious. Gerald hoped the paramedics would arrive soon and assist.

Vander Plaats met a young man outside the house that Gerald recognized only because of his hair. Although Gerald hadn't seen Gino Piras for more than ten years, he knew it was him because only one man could pull off that pompadour.

"What's the nature of the problem, sir?" Vander Plaats asked.

"My father, he's unconscious in his bed and I can't wake him up. When I found him, he wasn't breathing. He did have a large amount to drink tonight..." Gino was nervously smoking a cigarette.

Gerald started and drew his eyes away from Gino at a glare from Vander Plaats. He brought out his notepad and promptly wrote down what Gino had said.

"Gerald, stay here and continue talking to this young man. I'm going upstairs to check on his father and make sure the man stays alive until the paramedics arrive."

Gerald watched Vander Plaats leave after asking Gino where his father was. Gino turned to Gerald and gave him a look that made him almost feel sorry for the young man. It was a downtrodden, sad look, but a look that was tinged with feigned emotion. Maybe Gino wasn't really all that sad to see his father go.

"So when did you notice that your father was in distress?" Gerald tried to maintain an authoritative, business-like tone.

"Around ten, I hadn't seen him for an hour, and I was worried."

"And how was he when you found him?"

"Unconscious. There was vomit in the bathroom as well as around him on the floor."

"Okay," Gerald noted that, "do you have any idea of how much he drank tonight?"

"That man drinks so much that I couldn't keep track," Gino said.

Gerald was about to pose another question when Vander Plaat's voice came over his radio, telling him to radio in that they had a dead body as well as to note the time of death. Gerald took a deep breath to calm himself. They hadn't been able to save the young man's father.

He radioed in what Vander Plaats told him too, then informed Gino that his father was dead.

Gino took a long, deep drag on his cigarette at the news, looking distraught. Gerald felt deeply sorry for him at that moment. He really did look broken up at the news.

–

Marley, chewing on the end of his cigar, watched as a sleek black Porsche pulled up past the warehouse. The driver parked the car, then got out and opened the back door. A man dressed in an impeccable suit stepped out and looked around, his eyes shaded by his sunglasses.

Marley walked over to him and shook his hand, then directed the man into the other waiting car, where Sid was sitting and waiting. Marley took his seat up front with the driver, while Vince and two other aggressive looking men sat in the back with Sid, keeping their guns drawn in a show of power.

"Nice to meet with you again, Oriega," Sid said, offering a cigar and a drink to Oriega.

Oriega took the cigar and nodded, while Sid poured him a tumbler of whisky. They traded pleasantries for a few minutes before Sid cut to the chase.

"How much are you offering for seven hundred kilos?" Sid asked.

"That's a large order, I don't know if I would be able to bring that much to you right away," Oriega said.

"What? You always deliver, Oriega, why are you backing out now? You just gave me fifteen hundred fucking kilos!"

"You're dangerous, Sir."

"Like I don't fucking know I'm getting tailed by Feds night and day! I fucking expect that this shit gets delivered, a hundred here, Philadelphia, and DC, two hundred for New York and Jersey. You know where to send it, and get it sent out soon, or else you will regret the day your pussy cunt ass crossed me!" Sid hissed.

Vince placed his gun to Oriega's head, but Oriega had a knife to Sid's neck before the barrel touched his temple. He pressed the blade into the skin and drew beads of blood.

"Listen here, Sidney fucking Gifaldi, Lord of motherfucking Cunttown," Oriega mocked Sid's self-imposed title, "you think you're a big player in the game, but you're just another pawn. You need to learn your place, fuckin' cunt. Even I have more power than you and I'm just answering to the big boys in Columbia. One of these days, someone's going to get tired of you trying to fuck with their power and a wiseguy nobody is gonna shoot your bitch ass after you fuck a two dollar whore."

Sid bristled at Oriega's words, grabbing his wrist and struggling against the powerfully built man's strength. He drew his own knife and plunged it deep into Oriega's thigh. The two men in the back beat him repeatedly with the butt of their guns until Oriega's grip slacked and the knife dropped to the floor.

"I _know_ where I stand in the game, cocksucker. But you're here in my city, in a car full of my men. You answer to me, unless you want to end up in a ditch!" Sid twisted the knife in his leg.

Oriega groaned and closed his eyes, blood dripping out from his mouth where he had nearly bit through his tongue.

"Now make the call right now. Get me that fucking coke," Sid roughly reached into Oriega's pocket and pulled out the man's cellphone.

Oriega spat blood on the leather seat, then shakily grabbed the cellphone from Sid. He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear, body shaking. After waiting a few minutes, Oriega began to talk in slurred Spanish. Sid gave a pointed look to one of the men in the back seat, who nodded, noting that he was privy to the conversation and Oriega was making a legitimate call.

The driver pulled up in front of the same warehouse. Sid yanked his knife out of Oriega's leg, then pushed the car's door open and shoved Oriega out. He pulled a wad of cash from the inner pocket of his suit and threw several thousand dollars at Oriega, who was lying on the ground, clutching his leg.

"You'll get the rest when I get that fucking shit," Sid said before slamming the door shut.

They drove off, leaving the driver of Oriega's Porsche to attend to the man.

–

"Marley," Sid said to the red-haired man.

"Yes, Sir?" Marley looked up and blew out a plume of cigar smoke.

"I want my competition gone."

"What do you mean, Sir?" Marley asked, putting his cigar into the ashtray.

"In other cities. I don't want other gangs to exist! I should be the only one to run things. I'm more competent than they could possibly be. I want everyone to answer to me! I realize that I am only a small player in this game, but I want everyone to remember my name! History should remember me, and what I did! Everyone should be fucking afraid of me," Sid took a deep breath to calm himself down, then lit up a cigarette.

"Do you think you can handle that kind of responsibility? And your profile is so high right now, I think we just need to lay low until things blow over. You don't have to try to out-do Gino so quickly. He had years to build his empire," Marley said, trying to talk some sense into Sid.

"No! I've had to claw and struggle to even get a fraction of the power Gino had! Why should I settle for that? Give out the orders, right fucking now. Anyone in a position of power, I want them dead. Destroy any structure they have. Get rid of them and move in. Kill all those cocksucking, motherfucking pussies!"

"Very well, Sir," Marley nodded, even as he saw their whole operation crashing before his eyes.

–

"Love, I have something I need to tell you," Arnold's wife, Helga, said as they were preparing dinner. "Do you know who Phoebe treated today?"

"No, who?" Arnold asked, wondering if he should be concerned.

"Lila Sawyer. I don't know why she was in the hospital, but Phoebe did tell me that she mentioned Gifaldi was her boyfriend."

"Would Phoebe be willing to go to the station with that information?"

"I wouldn't have told you if she wasn't, Arnold, doi," Helga said as she stuffed a pan of lasagne into the oven.

"I'll take her in tomorrow," Arnold decided.

–

"Why am I missing ten fucking thousand dollars?" Sid yelled at the top of his lungs, storming through his apartment to the kitchen, where Lila sat doing lines. Lila didn't even look up when Sid stormed in, so he destroyed the remaining lines and picked Lila up, pressing her against the wall. "Bitch, listen the fuck to me when I am talking to you! I'm only going to ask once more, why am I missing ten thousand dollars from my safe?"

Lila lowered her lids and shrugged. Sid shook her and squeezed her arms tight until she cried out.

"You're the only other person to know the combination to that safe. Why is it missing?" Sid hissed, eyes narrowed and voice dangerous.

"I... I had to go to the hospital, okay?" Lila sobbed, mascara beginning to run down her cheeks.

"And why did you need to go to the hospital? To get a prescription for another fucking thing of Vicodin?"

"No!" Lila shrieked.

"Then why?" Sid shouted, only growing angrier.

"I was pregnant, okay?" Lila yelled right back, starting to sound coked out. "And I knew you wouldn't want a fucking baby, so I went and had a nice quiet... abortion," Lila's voice broke, "but it went wrong and I had to go to the hospital, so there!" her voice rose to hysterics.

"You were... you fucking killed _my_ kid"

Lila's eyes widened and her sobs subsided from pure shock as she realized that she had done something gravely wrong. Sid was silent for a second but then his face contorted in rage and he slapped her across the face.

"Get out, just get the fuck out of here, you fucking junkie," Sid said quietly.

"W-what?" Lila stammered, clutching her stinging face.

"Did I stutter, bitch? Get the hell out of my life, I'm done supporting you, you whore!" Sid grabbed Lila's wrist and dragged her out of the kitchen and through the apartment to the door.

"No! No, no, no, no! You wouldn't! Sid!" Lila screeched and began to sob, fighting and struggling and kicking against Sid's painful grip. "I'll be on the streets! I don't have any money! Let me... let me get my things, please, no, NO!" she dissolved into hysterics.

"Do I look like I give a fuck? You expect me to give you everything in the fucking world and because what I give you already isn't enough, you steal from me! You killed my kid! You are a selfish whore, and I am through with your bullshit!" Sid yanked the door open and attempted to shove Lila through it.

She kicked and screamed, causing a scene. Sid shut the door in her face and bolted it. Then he calmly walked to his bedroom and poured himself a tumbler of whisky, which was promptly drunk. After several more tumblers of whisky had been imbibed, he sank to the floor and sat there in drunken stupor.

He had almost had a child. He could have been a father.

–

I really didn't like writing the last scene, or any of the present day scenes with Sid, but I really want to show how he's starting to slip and loose it.

There should be a new illustration for this story in my profile.

I kind of want this story to be my magnum opus :B

And I have this odd feeling that Oriega is the name of a brand of taco shells.


	7. Chapter 7

_New York: Seven Dead in Brooklyn;_ _Along the Eastern Seaboard Tensions Rise as Gangs Clash;_ _Who is Sidney Gifaldi and Why Can't the Feds Bring Him Down?_ Sid stopped rifling through the clipped articles one of his men had brought him to look at. An article written about him, how interesting.

Sid was spending more time inside lately, dictating his moves through strategically placed calls to Vince and Marley. They were the ones who gave men in other cities orders for a hit. He wasn't really sure if the Feds had managed to stake out this apartment, but he knew that they had found his office and his favourite warehouse.

He shook his head and turned back to the article, which was fairly short but looked like it had been conducted in interview format. Sid began to read.

_An informant has finally given us a name for the man who styles himself the "Lord of Dogtown." The leader of the ruthless gang is named Sidney Gifaldi, and long awaited records are starting to turn up about this mysterious figure. _

_Mr Gifaldi was born in 1981 to Raymond and Monica Gifaldi. He grew up on the lower east-side of Hillwood, an area traditionally regarded as "rough," but was it the area that influence him, or were there other factors involved? This reporter, who is remaining anonymous to protect myself and my family, has interviewed people who knew Mr Gifaldi before he became what he is today._

_(I am interviewing Raymond and Monica Gifaldi, who still live in the house they raised their son in.)_

_Reporter: Mr Gifaldi, Mrs Gifaldi, first of all, thank you for doing this. Secondly, I'd like to start this interview by asking you what your son was like as a child._

_(Raymond glances at his wife)_

_Monica (looks down): He was a very sweet boy. He had his quirks, but he was a good boy who tried to do the right thing._

_Raymond: He was a good boy. He had a lot of friends, and liked to pull pranks. He got in trouble in school, not a lot, really, but he got in trouble because he would do things like put Vaseline on toilet seats. Harmless pranks._

_Reporter: When did you find out that he had been involved in illegal activities?_

_Raymond: We didn't know, we didn't, until he was arrested for the first time._

_Monica (nods vigorously): He never gave us the idea that he was doing things like that. We had no idea. Nobody else had any idea either._

_Reporter: I see. How did you react once you found he was doing things like selling marijuana?_

_Monica: I just broke down and cried. It broke my heart, seeing my baby go down that path. It still breaks my heart. I just want my baby back. I want my son back (begins to dab at eyes with a tissue)._

_Raymond: I got so mad at the boy, I couldn't believe it. It's like the worst nightmare for any parents, you put so much effort into trying to raise your kids right, and then they go wrong, and you can't help but think it's all your fault._

_Reporter: One last question: what do you think of the current accusations, of him ordering the killings of multiple other gang members?_

_Raymond: I refuse to believe it. I refuse._

_Monica: He still has to have some good left in him. I can't believe that my son, my only son would be that heartless (starts to cry into her tissue)._

_Reporter: We all hope that he does still have some good in him. Thank you for your time, Mr and Mrs Gifaldi._

_(Next, I interviewed a local butcher, who was a classmate of Mr Gifaldi's. His identity has also been withheld.)_

_Reporter: So you went to school with Mr Gifaldi? How long were you in school with him?_

_Butcher: Oh, I went with him from preschool to like, the ninth grade, before I dropped out. We weren't really friends once we got to middle school._

_Reporter: So you were friends before? What caused you two to go your separate ways?_

_Butcher (leans on the counter and sighs): Because he got involved with Gino [Piras], as soon as those two got together, they were inseparable, and I didn't want to go and hang with Gino just to be friends with Sid, because Gino was a bad kid._

_Reporter: They were inseparable? Did they get along that well? What caused Mr Gifaldi to become friends with Piras, considering what Piras grew up to be?_

_Butcher: They got along like oil and water later on, but at first, yeah, they were best friends. I don't really know what caused Sid to become friends with Gino. It was just like a switch, he started hanging out with them and then boom, he was one of them. I mean, at the time, we were only in elementary school, so the worst Gino was doing was forging signatures for permission slips and selling fake hall passes._

_Reporter: How did you feel when you found out that Mr Gifaldi was the "Lord of Dogtown?"_

_Butcher: I wasn't really surprised, I mean, everyone knew that Gino's father was kind of a mob boss or something, so if Sid kept on with Gino, it wasn't surprising that he would be the one after Gino to lead those guys or whatever. I didn't really care, because what, I went to school with him fourteen years ago. Our friendship wasn't that strong._

_Reporter: Okay, that's all the questions I have for you, thank you._

_(Finally, I interviewed Terrence McLean, the chief of police of Hillwood to get some answers about what we can expect to happen to Mr Gifaldi)_

_Reporter: Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions, Mr McLean._

_McLean: I know the public is expecting answers about the situation._

_Reporter: Yes, we're all very curious; how close are you to apprehending Gifaldi?_

_McLean: I can't answer too much, but he's proven a difficult fugitive to catch. He doesn't leave traces. Even if we were able to arrest him right now, we don't have strong evidence against him._

_Reporter: But it's said that he's committed over twenty-four murders, and ordered dozens more, and that he's the man behind all the gang violence exploding over the east coast._

_McLean: Word of mouth like that doesn't hold up in court. When we make our move, we want to have a watertight case against this man._

_Reporter: I see. What kinds of charges is he facing right now, and how many years could he get in prison?_

_McLean: If we could convict him of any one of the murders he allegedly committed, he would get life in prison. If it's of anything else, like drug trafficking or racketeering, it would be significantly less than life. The Dogs are a very criminally active group in Hillwood, as well as elsewhere in the United States, so Gifaldi could face thirty or more charges just on the state level._

_Reporter: How did the term "Lord of Dogtown" come into use? And his subordinates are referred to as Dogs?_

_McLean: The group's historically stayed low on our radar by not referring to itself by any name, so the term "Lord of Dogtown" is likely fairly recent, with it probably going back no further than Stefano Piras..._

The article went on further, but Sid stopped reading, ripping the article to shreds. If he knew who that fucking reporter was, he would have them murdered in their sleep and bring his alleged murder count up to twenty-five. Ha! They really needed to give him more credit. The numbers were much higher, no part in thanks to the bloody struggle that had resulted when Gino had attempted to take over after his father's murder.

Sid recalled that time with a morbid sense of fondness how they had cut their way through Stefano's men; some murders had been outright sick and disgusting, others were quick and clean, while yet others were creative. The police force at the time still turned a blind eye to Georgino Piras, son of their best benefactor, Stefano. Sid and Gino struggled for the better part of a year, murdering each man who rose to take the position his fallen comrade previously held, until Stefano's empire was in shambles and they had to begin rebuilding it from the ground up.

It was a long and tedious process, but together, Sid and Gino improved on Stefano's system, then expanded even further than Stefano had dared, their ventures reaching all the way to the Midwest while spanning the whole eastern seaboard. Gino had been quick to work with previously established criminals, allowing them to continue their activity as long as they bought from him, or assimilated their numbers into the syndicate. He always was a reasonable man. Sid wasn't. He never had been.

–

Lila snuffed as she dipped her pinky into a packet of cocaine, sniffing the drug up from her manicured nail. She sniffed again, then wiped her nose and the tears from her cheeks. Red and blue lights flashed outside; she knew the police were coming for her. It was over, everything was over.

She had thrown her life away. The lure of drug money had been stronger than her morals and in the end everything had collapse. Dirty money involved dirty people, and Sid was the dirtiest of all. Lila choked and wiped her eyes again. She had loved him.

She decided to forgo refilling her wine glass, choosing instead to drink it straight from the bottle. Lila swayed side to side, wiping her tears away again before repeating the process, her nose already numb.

She was going to jail for sure. She just knew it. That fucking bastard Sid had fucked her over. Sometimes he used her apartment as a holding place for bricks, and before he had been such an asshole to her, he had decided to place the bricks at her apartment. So now she had a hundred kilos sitting in her bedroom.

He fucking screwed her over. If she ever saw him again, she was going to make him pay.

Lila, as calmly as she could, continued snorting coke even as the police broke down her door, yelling about a search warrant.

–

Arnold sipped his coffee, hoping that it would take effect soon. The meeting room was stuffy and hot. Everyone in the room looked tired, even McLean himself. Arnold looked over at Gerald. They both had no idea why they had been called here, but they had an idea. Officers from other cities were in the room, shifting around listlessly.

Finally, the door opened and a sharply dressed woman, flanked by two men, strode in. McLean straightened up and shook their hands, slicking back his comb over with his other hand.

The woman stepped up to the long table that everyone was sitting around and put her briefcase on it, unlatching it and pulling out a notebook. She sighed and looked up, eyes narrow under thick glasses.

"Hello, everyone, I'm Katrinka Shapiro, DEA special agent. To my right is FBI Agent Urzillo, to my left is Agent Kim, also FBI. I won't mince words, we all know why I'm here. I'm going to be leading the investigation on Sidney Gifaldi," the woman said in a crisp, businesslike voice. "Mr McLean, I understand that you now have two valuable informants."

"Yes, Ms Shapiro," McLean nodded, "Greg Pendle, a distributor for Gifaldi, who has agreed to testify against Gifaldi in exchange for a reduced sentence and Lila Sawyer, Gifaldi's girlfriend."

"Well, Mr McLean, why don't you brief me on what you know so far and then we can go out in the field," Ms Shapiro shuffled her notebook around, then pulled a pen out from behind her ear.

"Yes," McLean cleared his throat and began to talk, "Ms Sawyer has informed us..."

–

"You knew Gifaldi when you were young," Shapiro said as they walked.

It was more of a statement than a question. Arnold shrugged but nodded as he lead her down the long hall. Petty criminals in the holding cells let out cat-calls and hollered, but Shapiro ignored them. Arnold let her through another set of doors. This section of the police station was more brightly lit, but more sterile looking, with everything painted a faded, off-white colour.

"I did, I've already given the precinct a statement about that," Arnold said, shaking of the stinging feeling that hit his heart with Shapiro's words.

"Well, tell me about him," Shapiro pulled out the pen from behind her ear. "I don't know if you remember me, but I believe we went to the same school for a while. PS one eighteen?"

"We might have, but it's been a while since I thought about elementary."

"I wasn't there for very long, I was a military brat," Shapiro chuckled slightly. "Tell me about Gifaldi when he was a teenager, that's when we believe he really started his criminal career."

Arnold sighed as they stopped outside the questioning room where Lila Sawyer was sitting and shaking in her seat.

"He was, to be frank, an asshole. He thought he was hot stuff. People knew not to mess with Gino and his guys, so they didn't mess with Gifaldi. Even the other gang kids didn't give them shit."

"I see. Well, I will see you when I am done talking to Ms Sawyer, Mr Shortman," Shapiro said.

Arnold nodded and let her into the interrogation room, then closed the door behind her. Shapiro walked over to the empty chair, setting her notebook down before taking a seat. Once seated, she took off her glasses and clasped her hands.

"How are you doing?" Shapiro asked. Lila shrugged and refused to look her in the eye. "I know that you've already been questioned, but I would just like to ask you a few more. Why did you spend the past five years with Gifaldi?"

"He... he had money," Lila whispered.

"Money... I see. When did you first become aware of the extent of his criminal activities?"

Lila was still shaking. She hugged herself tight and blinked rapidly, swaying from side to side.

"I was always aware. He just confirmed it to me a few years after we got together."

"All right, just one more, Ms Sawyer, will you be willing to testify against Gifaldi in a court of law?"

There was a deep intake of breath from Lila. She didn't answer for a few minutes, but finally, she raised her head and looked at Shapiro with glazed eyes.

"Yes."

–

"Arnold, turn off the tv and come to bed," Helga said, snapping her book shut.

Arnold turned and looked at his wife, then back at the tv, which was turned a local news station. The station was covering breaking news about how fifteen men, all affiliated with Gifaldi, had been gunned down just outside Hillwood. Helga reached over and grabbed the remote, shutting the tv off.

Arnold got up and paced around the room, running a hand through his still wild hair. Helga watched him pace, until finally Arnold grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the bedside table and lit up. Then she glared at him and rolled over to the other side of the bed. Getting up, Helga drew herself up to her full height, which equalled that of Arnold's.

"Are you _that_ beaten up about Gifaldi?" Helga demanded.

"I... I don't know, Helga!" Arnold let out another sigh and turned away from Helga.

Helga put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back to face her again and said, "I've told you this, even if you had been able to 'save' him from Gino, we all knew Sid had issues. He would have fucked himself over one way or another. You can't save everyone, Arnold. Some people aren't worth saving."

Arnold watched smoke stream off the burning cigarette for a few moment before quietly saying, "But I saved you, didn't I?"

Helga visibly blanched, but licked her lips and squeezed Arnold's shoulder.

"Well, I wanted to be saved. But someone like Sid doesn't."

"All I want to do is stop this before more people get hurt."

"You're one man, love. People won't think any less of you if you do your best to bring him down."

Arnold sat down on the bed with sagging shoulder. The cigarette visited his lips a few more times before he spoke again.

"Thanks Helga," was all he said.

–

Haven't written for a bit. Real life and no inspiration and all that. Finals coming up, lame.

Some songs that I listen to writing this story:

Thirteen – Danzig

Any Means Necessary and Last Man Standing – Hammerfall

Anything by Graves at Sea and Clagg


	8. Chapter 8

"His favourite apartment is number 820, 436 East Washington," Lila said, pointing to it on a map of the city.

McLean nodded while Shapiro made a note in her ever-present notebook. They had been interviewing Lila for hours, coaxing invaluable information out of her. She was a hot mess, with the makeup from three days ago still on her face and her body constantly shaking as she chained cigarette after cigarette.

"It would be under the name Liam Henderson. But since he's... so, uh, all over the place, he could be at another apartment or at the house of one of his friends."

"And where would those be, Ms Sawyer?" McLean took another sip of coffee before crossing his arms. He was loosing patience with this flaky junkie. Even though she was _the_ person who would get them their watertight case against Gifaldi, she was pissing him off.

"Um... I've only been to two, but I'm ever so sure he has more. One is... 745, 1208 Everest Street... the other 303, uh, some place. Maybe Riverfront. If he's not at one of those, he could be at Vince's place or Marley's."

"Who are Vince and Marley?" Shapiro asked, perking up at the mention of names.

"Vincent Purcelli and Marlon Callaghan, they're... like his underbosses or something. They kind of hate him."

McLean wasn't surprised when he heard that Purcelli and Callaghan were underbosses. For as long as he had suspected them as members of Gifaldi's syndicate, he had suspected them to be high up in the rankings. Now he just had confirmation. While Shapiro continued to talk to Lila, McLean got on his phone and made a few calls, letting a select few in on Purcelli and Callaghan's new statuses.

"They hate him? Why?" Shapiro narrowed her eyes.

Lila let out a tinkling laugh but just looked down and picked at a scab on her arm. Shapiro took a deep breath and set down her notebook, taking the cigarette out of Lila's mouth. She took the cigarette up to her own lips, closing her eyes as she took a drag. Shapiro exhaled in Lila's face.

"Let me remind you, Ms Sawyer, that this information is what is going to get you a reduced sentence or keep you from serving time entirely. I suggest you cooperate and tell us _what we want_." Shapiro's voice was mild but McLean could hear the threat hidden in her statement.

Lila blinked as her eyes watered from the smoke, then delicately pulled another cigarette from the pack sitting on the table. She took her time lighting it up, and had smoked nearly half of it before speaking again.

"They always hated him, but they hate him more now," she started before going into a coughing fit. Once the coughs subsided, she began again.

McLean shut his phone and listened; Shapiro began to furiously write in her notebook.

–

Sid leaned his head back and groaned. He grabbed the hair of the girl kneeling before him and pushed her head closer. She attempted to take it the best she could. Sid bit back a curse when his phone rang, but he picked it up anyway, seeing that it was Vince.

"What?" he snarled, then, "bitch, did I tell you to stop?"

"Lila's been arrested."

"Fuck! That fucking cunt! How the hell did she get her fucking junkie ass arrested?" Sid shouted.

"I don't know, Sir, all I know is that she's getting interrogated by an old pal."

"An 'old pal?'" Sid said, grunting as he forced the girl's head closer once again.

"Katrinka Novikov. She goes by Katrinka Shapiro these days, however. She's a DEA agent."

"Who the hell is that?"

"Another PS one eighteen attendee," Vince responded. "How do you want to deal with the situation?"

"I... ugh, fucking shit, yeah!" Sid brushed his hair back again and caught his breath before speaking again. He shoved the girl back onto the bed and pulled his pants back up, buttoning them while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Off that cunt if you have the chance. She could never keep her mouth shut. They probably know everything about us now, right down to the fucking brand of toothpaste I buy."

"Yes, Sir, I want to know what the fuck you were thinking, making her such a big part of your life," Vince snapped, which shocked Sid, the man had never talked back to him before.

"What the fuck I was thinking? I was fucking thinking that it would be fucking fantastic to have a pussy around to bang! What do you do that's any different?" Sid hissed.

"I don't make my bitch a witness! I know Gino trusted you, but Gino was ten times smarter and ten times the leader you are. You've been running everything into the ground, Sid," Vince said with malice.

"Running everything into the ground? I've been taking steps that Gino was too gallant to take. When have we ever had profit this big? When have we ever had so many factions?"

"Half of our members are street scum coke-heads, you fucker. You just handed your girlfriend to the police and she knows _everything_! Did you ever see that as a fucking liability?"

"She's too timid and oh so sweet mannered to do anything like that," Sid shouted.

"S-should I go?" the girl asked, having gotten dressed and ready to leave.

Sid whipped around and slapped the girl, sending her reeling into the wall. She gasped and clutched at her face, sliding down to the floor. Sid strode over, eyes blazing and face contorted in rage. He placed a hand around her neck and squeezed, bringing the girl up and pinning her against the wall.

Her face turned red as she gagged and spluttered, kicking her heels against the wall.

"Are you deaf, you fucking slut?" Sid squeezed harder, causing tears to stream out of the girl's eyes. "Get the fuck out before I put my Goddamn pistol to your head."

He dropped the girl to the ground. She lay there like a ragdoll, gagging and sobbing. Sid turned away from her and walked to the opposite side of the room, ignoring the girl as she crawled towards the door.

"What the hell was that? You've gone crazy, Sid, you motherfucking son of a bitch. Watch out, because whatever you do now, you will not have the backing of your dogs," Vince shouted and the abruptly hung up.

"Then fuck you anyway, you kiss up cunt!" Sid screamed, throwing his phone against the wall and shattering it.

He quickly strode to his bedside table and picked up the landline phone that sat there next to the lamp. After calming himself for a second, he dialled Johnson's number. But Johnson didn't pick up. Sid cursed and slammed the phone back in its cradle before pacing around the room, fuming.

Vince, that impertinent little shit, he was going to get it! Sid was going to make sure the cocksucker paid for what he said to him! He always had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that neither Vince nor Marley ever completely trusted his place. Know he knew! He knew, and he was going to remedy that situation, even if he had to kill them himself.

–

"This is getting out of hand," Marley muttered, covering his mouth with his cigar while he talked.

"The little shit can't handle it. I always knew he was weak-willed," Vince responded, doing the same with his cigarette. "Now he's got Feds tailing us night and day and delivered the one person who can put us all in jail right into the hands of the authorities. Expect there to be a new Lord of Dogtown by tomorrow morning," Vince spat.

Marley's expression didn't change, but he drew his hand away from his face, letting the cigar smoulder while he nodded at Vince.

–

"You're not coming home tonight? I thought you didn't have to do a night patrol tonight," Helga's voice was concerned and Arnold could picture her brow furrowing.

"I can't talk about it right now, but I will come home. I just have to do this. It's important," Arnold said quickly.

Everyone else in the room was already suited up, kevlar jackets visible under their black shirts. Arnold said goodbye to his wife and shut his phone, then struggled into the bulletproof vest and buttoned his shirt back up. As he put his gun in its holster, McLean came into the room wearing a serious expression.

"I hope everyone is prepared for this. Gifaldi is armed and dangerous and will not go down without a fight, but this is the single most important thing we will ever do. Let's roll out," he said.

Everyone in the room nodded, getting to their feet. They filed out of the room; out of the police station; and into their vehicles. The convoy quickly rode out, cruisers at the front blaring their sirens and clearing out traffic. Gerald looked over at Arnold, who was chewing on his lip while staring out the window.

"Hey, man, he's not the kid we knew," Gerald said, making a thumbs up and holding out his hand to Arnold.

Arnold looked at his friend's extended hand for a second before making the same gesture and bringing his fist to Gerald's. They wiggled their thumbs together; they had not done their signature handshake for years, but it comforted Arnold, knowing that some things would never change.

–

Fuck those fucking fuckers, Sid thought viciously. Fuck them all to fucking hell! His blood was boiling; he had never been this furious; he had never felt this murderous.

Sid fell to the ground and gagged, clutching at his stomach as blood spilled from between his hands. He crawled his way to the bathroom and collapsed on the floor. A rushing sound filled his ears, but he was still able to hear the sound of the door breaking down and the shout of, "POLICE!"

–

Sid slicked back his hair and fixed his tie before strolling up to Gino, who was enjoying a cigar and cognac with Marley. Sid already had a glass of whisky in his hand as he took a seat between the two. Marley gave Sid a nod, so Sid leaned in and gave Gino a kiss on each cheek before sitting down.

"How have you been, Sid, how are you doing?" Gino asked.

"I've been good, Gino, thank you, and yourself?" Sid responded.

"Very well, very well. Oriega just finalized our deal. It's very good, we will be making millions within a few days," Gino gave him a roughish grin.

"That's fantastic!" Sid sounded surprised, but he had a feeling that Oriega would come through for them. He always did. Sid bit back a smirk as he leaned into Gino, putting his lips close to the man's ear. "How about I give you something special tonight, to celebrate our good fortune?"

Gino smirked while his fingers curled around the lowball glass, "I couldn't say no to a woman picked by you."

"Fantastic," Sid said, "I'll send her to your usual room."

Gino nodded and let a smile play on his lips while Marley looked on distrustfully.

That night, Sid met with the woman who would be spending the night with Gino. She was a gorgeous girl, a complete knock-out and Sid knew that Gino wouldn't suspect anything. The girl was also completely desperate, selling herself on the streets just to have enough money to buy a bit of meth.

Sid put his hands on her shoulders and crouched down so that he was eye to eye with her. She lowered her lashes, then turned her head to the side. Sid took a hand and guided her face so it was facing his once more.

"You sure you'll do this for me, baby girl?" Sid asked.

"Yes... just, please, hold up on your end of the deal," she whispered.

"I always do, sweetheart," Sid kissed both of her cheeks and stood up, handing the knife to her. "This man has wronged me greatly, and you're doing me a great favour by doing this."

The girl nodded, slipping the knife into her purse on the bedside table. Sid picked up her frail hand and kissed it before striding out of the room, his grin growing bigger and bigger with each step he took.

Soon, it would all be his. Gino would be dead, and Sid would be the one calling the shots. He couldn't wait to be Lord.

–

Things are getting heated, aw yeah!

So I've been hanging out with this guy from China for a few days, and he just bought me a Coach wallet. A motherfucking Coach wallet! Holy shit, I just about went jlwkjaiowlkajjflksslskskssk (well, actually I did make that noise). Let me make it again: .

Also, there's a guy who I'm friends with named Stefano and if he didn't have a girlfriend I would be all over that shit because Q_Q is he gorgeous.


	9. Chapter 9

His stomach was killing him. Slowly, Sid opened his eyes to see the world spinning around him. As things came into focus, he noticed two armed guards by the door. Through the window, Sid could see two more outside the room. Sid went to rub his face but found that he was restrained at the wrists and ankles, effectively preventing him from moving. One of the guards raised an eyebrow at Sid, who scowled back and shouted, "Fuck you!"

The last thing Sid remembered was some nobody's face above him and the glint of the knife in his hand. He couldn't believe it! Vince and Marley had betrayed him! They had tried to kill Sid!

"Fuck them! Fuck it all! Those cocksucking, motherfucking sons of bitches!" Sid screamed, rocking back and forth and straining against his restraints. "I'm going to kill those cunts! I'm going to kill them! How dare they, how dare they betray me, how dare they try to kill me!"

"We have a situation with the prisoner, we're going to need a sedative," one of the guards got on his radio.

"No fucking way! No fucking way will you sedate me! Get me the fuck out of here, I'll kill you!" Sid yelled at the guard.

"Make it a strong one," the guard added in.

A few moments later, a large male nurse came in flanked by the two guards from outside. All four of the guards held Sid down as the nurse brought out a hypodermic needle and injected it into Sid's thigh. Sid continued raging and struggling against his restraints and the men holding him still until the sedative took effect.

–

"...Currently at Hillwood Medical Centre receiving treatment for an injury of unknown nature. Earlier today, Chief of Police Terrence McLean issued a statement about Gifaldi."

The news station cut to a video clip of the aforementioned statement. McLean stood outside the police headquarters, face serious and voice calm amid the shouting of reporters.

"We apprehended Gifaldi at his apartment at approximately ten in the evening. When we found him, he was unconscious in his bedroom, bleeding from a severe injury. Although we found no evidence on the scene, we firmly believe that we already have a strong case against him. We look forward to a trial at the soonest possible date. Thank you," McLean said, then stepped down from the podium as questions exploded from reporters.

The news station cut back to the anchor, who cleared her throat and clasped her hands again.

"We have a report that Gifaldi is in stable condition and will be moved to jail without bail. We will continue covering this ongoing story at the noon hour."

Sid angrily grabbed the remote and changed the channel.

"...Could face multiple life sentences, in addition to the penalties the other charges carry. He may even be prosecuted in federal court. I hope he is. People think of this guy as just a mobster, but when you look at his alleged murder count, he's a serial killer. He needs to be in prison, no question. I'm willing to have my tax dollars spent to keep this guy off the streets—"

"The trial is slated to begin on the fourteenth and is expected to last weeks. Gifaldi is facing over thirty charges, most for murder, but other charges include drug trafficking and distribution, human trafficking, and racketeering. Assistant U.S Attorney Ethan Roosevelt, who will be prosecuting, says that he is, 'very confident' about the evidence against Gifaldi."

–

Sid stepped out of the car to a roar of voices. Police officers had set up barricades on either side, holding back the media who thrust cameras and microphones and shouted questions. Officers flanked Sid on all sides, as well as his lawyer. Sid wore his very best suit, but his arms were cuffed behind his back and his feet were shackled.

Flashes exploded everywhere as the officers pushed the media back. Sid paid them no attention. The officers led Sid inside and into the courtroom where the bailiff then walked Sid to the defendant's table. Across the way, Sid saw the Assistant US Attorney and his team look him once over. Turning back to face the bench, Sid kept his proudest face on, even though about the time he was lying bleeding on the bathroom floor, he realised that everything had crumbled around him. He was going to loose this case and spend the rest of his life in jail.

"All rise for The Honourable Judge Hawkins," the bailiff announced.

Everyone stood as the judge entered the room with her robes billowing. Judge Hawkins quickly took her place at the bench. She brushed her hair out of her face and briefly looked over some papers before speaking.

"I will now bring this court to order. We are here to bring Sidney Raymond Gifaldi to trial for thirty-one charges: the murder of Giuseppe Kursivetti, the murder of Wesley Montserrat, the murder of Tulio Hernandez, the murder of Amelia Reynolds, the murder of James Abbott, the murder of Anthony Ruysch, ... accessory to the murder of Georgino Piras..."

Sid took a deep breath. As each name was read off, he remembered clearly who the person was and how he had killed them. For a long while, his mind lingered on Gino. Briefly, Sid wondered what he would be doing right now if he had not killed Gino. Would they still be living the life they had been living? Or would someone else have done what Sid had done?

"...And six counts of human trafficking," Judge Hawkins said, finishing the list of charges. "Prosecution, you may begin your opening statement."

"Thank you, Your Honour," Roosevelt stood up and straightened his tie, clearing his throat before beginning. "Through the course of the prosecution's investigation..."

–

"Roosevelt, you may call your first witness to the stand," Judge Hawkins said.

"Thank you, Your Honour. I call Ms Lila Sawyer to the stand," Roosevelt said, his voice confident.

Lila stood up and was escorted to the stand by the bailiff, where she was sworn in. She cleaned herself up for the trial, looking less strung out than Sid had seen her in a long time. Roosevelt had stood up and was ready to begin his examination.

It made Sid's blood boil to see the stupid bitch sitting there, acting like she had done nothing wrong. He was going to end her if he could, he didn't even care that he was in a courtroom and in chains. Sid clasped his hands together, contemplating strangling her, but Roosevelt began his examination and stood directly in front of Lila, blocking Sid's way. He would have to go through Roosevelt too, and that was too much work. The bailiff would have him before he would even get to Lila. It was a waste of time, but oh, how he wanted to do it.

"For the jury, Ms Sawyer, please establish your relationship with the defendant," Roosevelt said, arms held behind his back.

Lila cleared her throat and looked desperate for a cigarette, but demurely said, "We dated for around five years."

"Would you say you were a large part of his life?"

Lila nodded, "Yes, later on, I would spend more time with him. I was with him a lot."

Roosevelt nodded, then straightened his tie again. Sid wanted to hit that smug snake, the man felt like this was an easy case! Sid narrowed his eyes. Maybe he had become sloppy, but not with murder. Never with murder. Lila was the only witness to several of the ones he had been charged with, while the others had no witnesses at all. He was going to do everything he could to stay out of jail.

Lila was question for a lengthy amount of time before Sid's lawyer was allowed to cross examine her. Presenting the evidence had taken two weeks, and the full examination of Lila took another week. So Sid was quite glad when his lawyer was able to discredit Lila as a witness. She was their kingpin, take her away, and the rest of the pieces would fall away and Sid would walk free.

"Ms Sawyer, please tell the jury how you met Mr Gifaldi," his lawyer asked.

Lila blinked, then grew visibly nervous, but spoke, "Well, we first knew each other in school, but we were never really friends. We lost contact after school ended."

"When did you re-establish contact with Mr Gifaldi?"

Lila licked her lips. Sid knew she was itching to get out of here; he knew she was itching to not be sober any more.

"I, uh, I was looking to buy some meth one night. That's when I met him. When I was out, looking to score."

"Was Mr Gifaldi selling methamphetamines?"

"No, but I saw him sell some other men drugs, so I thought I could ask him. And I did, and that is how we re-established contact," Lila said shamefacedly.

"Do you take methamphetamines, Ms Sawyer?" his lawyer asked. "Do you take any sort of substances, legal or illegal, with the intent to alter your state of mind?"

Lila was silent for a long while. The court reporter stopped typing with the absence of speech, allowing a strange sort of silence to fall over the courtroom. Sid knew the answer. It was yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Lila had tried anything and everything. And that's what his lawyer was banking on: the argument that Lila was not a reliable witness to the majority of murders due to her being under the influence the majority of the time she was with Sid.

"Yes," Lila finally answered. "I use methampthetamines regularly, in addition to cocaine, and prescription pain killers."

"How many times a week would you say you used the aforementioned substances?"

–

"What are you going to do, Nico? The evidence they have against me is too strong for your current fucking argument to do a Goddamn thing!" Sid was speaking with his lawyer.

"I am doing my best to defend you, but the evidence doesn't lie," his lawyer said.

Sid looked down at the handcuffs encircling his wrist. The chain connecting the two cuffs jangled with each inhale and exhale. He couldn't stand being locked away like this, returned to state custody every evening after the trial adjourned until the next day.

Even though that had made Lila as a witness unusable, due to proving that she could not possibly recollect the murders as she was not in her right mind because of drug use, the other evidence the prosecution presented against Sid was overwhelming. While he might not be sentenced for murder, he would be sentenced for trafficking, racketeering, money laundering, and countless other charges that would keep him locked up in federal prison for a long time, equal to serving a life sentence.

"Give the word to Luc," Sid said, referring to Lucky, his inside man at the police station. "I'm not going down and out without a fight," his voice was low and there was a dark gleam in his eyes.

"Very well, as long as he understands what to do," his lawyer muttered back.

"He will," Sid said.

He interlocked his fingers, bringing his hands up to his face so he could rest his head upon them while staring pensively at the wall behind Nico.

–

"This is Janice Barlow, for Channel 6 news, outside Moynihan Courthouse in New York City. Minutes from now, after six weeks of trial, Sidney Gifaldi, the Lord of Dogtown, will be found guilty or not guilty of thirty-one charges..."

Inside the courthouse, Sid stood, his hands and feet still bound as the jury filed back into the room. Arnold sat watching Sid. The man was still looking haughty and proud, like he could not care less what the verdict was. Arnold got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach looking at the man, and he wished dearly that he was not here, and that Sid was not here, and that Helga was not here, sitting next to him and holding his hand.

He wanted them to be playing baseball in the street, and he just wanted to hear Sid yell, "Car!" But that was not going to happen. That time had long passed. Arnold took a deep breath and knew that they all knew now that time waited for no one, and time would make a fool of everyone.

"How does the jury find the defendant?" Judge Hawkins asked.

A young man, who could not have been more than eighteen, stood. He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, then looked around at his fellow jurors. Some nodded, other smiled encouragingly. The young man looked back at the judge, not daring to make eye contact with Sid.

"We, the jury, find the defendant, for the three charges of drug trafficking: guilty; for the six charges of human trafficking: guilty; for the two charges of racketeering: guilty; … for the murder of Giuseppe Kursivetti: not guilty; for the murder of Wesley Montserrat: guilty..." the young man read on, listing off the charges and how the jury found Sid.

Sid's expression didn't change as the young man read off the charges. Arnold wondered how the man could be so calm about this, but then again, Arnold didn't know anything about Sid. He realised long ago that the kid he thought he knew no longer existed.

Next to him, another member of the police force, Riley, mouth the verdicts as they were read off. Riley had nearly been late to the trail, he had told Arnold that he didn't want to miss seeing "this sick fucker get locked up."

"Are you okay?" Arnold asked Riley, who was pale and sweating.

Riley flinched when Arnold touched his arm.

"Oh, yes, fine," Riley looked out into the crowd of people where Sid's parents were sitting, his mother crying, her sobs growing louder as each verdict was read off.

"You just look sick," Arnold started to say.

"...and for the charge of accessory to the murder of Georgino Piras: guilty."

Riley stood, ignoring the Judge's orders for him to be seated. Arnold reacted quickly, pushing Helga to the floor and throwing himself over her as Riley pulled out two guns, unleashing a spray of bullets on the courtroom. Gunfire rang out as people began to scream from shock and pain.

Arnold could barely think, but he knew that he had to act fast. He opened his eyes and saw a man drop to the floor his eyes opened wide in shock as he bled out from his missing lower jaw. Riley had long since left the spot where he first opened fire, so Arnold whispered to Helga, "Stay where you are."

He crawled along the floor, trying to ascertain where Riley was. The gunfire sounded like it was coming from the front of the courtroom now, so Arnold made his way to the aisle, carefully peeking his head out enough so he could see what was going on.

Sid and his lawyer were the only ones left standing. Riley was visibly shaking as he looked at the two men.

"Well done, Lucky," Sid said to Riley. "You really fuckin' are your namesake."

He nodded at Riley, then took a gun from Riley and handed it to his lawyer, who used it to break the chains on his ankles. Then they quickly fled the room. Arnold leapt to his feet, ready to follow them but a sob made him look over at Riley, who had the remaining gun to his temple.

"Tell them all I'm sorry," Riley gulped. Before Arnold could do anything, he had pulled the trigger and crumpled to the ground with the sound of the gun still echoing through the courtroom.

–

Sid leaned back in his chair, smirking as he watched the news. Smoke billowed around him, streaming of a lit cigarette. Nico stood behind him, arms crossed. Sid enjoyed being able to move his arms without them being restricted by handcuffs.

"...It is an absolute horrific scene here at Moynihan Courthouse in New York... An unidentified gunman opened fire in the trial of Sidney Gifaldi, the death count is unknown at this point but already dead are Judge Emilie Hawkins, who presided over the trial, five of the jurors, and the gunman himself... it's absolutely horrific... New York police have issued a state-wide manhunt for Sidney Gifaldi, who escaped during the violence..."

He turned to Nico and grinned, "I think they finally know that I _am_ their Lord. I AM the Lord of Dogtown and this whole fucking country is full of dogs."

Afterword:

I feel proud of myself for actually finishing not one, not two, but three stories!

This last chapter took a while, mostly because I wanted to get the court scenes right. I have (unfortunately) been privy to legal proceedings, but it was only seeing a plea bargain and not a whole trial. So excuse me if anything is a little off, especially the way the courthouse is referred to. I've only been to NY once and internet research can only do so much.

I have actually never spent more time researching for a fanfiction than I have for this one. I watched a lot of documentaries on gangs and drug traffickers, as well as on the lives of drug kingpins like Nicky Barnes. Hopefully it shows.

Anyways, I'm pleased with how this story turned out. I could have spent a lot more time on characters like Lila, Gino, Helga, Marley, and Vince, but that'd be more of a novel than I would want this story to be.

And yes it did end with a blatant sequel hook, but I do not intend to write a sequel for this story.

Finally, a big, _huge_ thank you and lots of internet kisses to those of you who review the story, especially onefinewire, whose reviews always make me go squee.

I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

P.S.: I'm looking to start on a new story, if you wouldn't mind me bouncing ideas off you, give me a PM!


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